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Together 

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AUGUST-SEPTEMBER 1973 



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\ ~\ l _-»a By All Means, They Spread the Word 






ioethics: The Questions Are Getting Tougher 
Alone Over the Atlantic 



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VIEWPOINT 



Welcoming 

a Ruling— 

Without 

Chortles 



MUCH could be sai'd about the U.S. Supreme Court's 
recent ruling against tax credits, tuition reimburse- 
ments, and other forms of indirect government 
aid to nonpublic schools. Much, in fact, has been said 
about it. Too much, some might say. It is the kind of rul- 
ing which excites either vigorous support and affirmation 
or ill-tempered disapproval, depending on one's point of 
view. 

In this case the lines of separation are rather clearly 
drawn. They happen to fall between U.S. religious groups 
that in recent years have made heartening progress 
toward understanding and appreciating each other better. 
It would be highly unfortunate if the court's ruling were 
to undo all that. Roman Catholics, whose parochial school 
system is by far the nation's largest nonpublic educational 
enterprise, are not surprisingly perturbed that the Supreme 
Court has struck down what they had hoped would be 
a constitutionally acceptable way for their schools to 
receive public support. Some Catholic reactions, like one 
leader's appraisal of this "illogical, unjust, and dis- 
criminating exercise of raw judicial power," have been 
exaggerated. And some Protestants have chortled glee- 
fully that the Catholics finally got their comeuppance 
from the court. 

The court's ruling is a broadly inclusive decision which 
seems to us firmly based on the First Amendment princi- 
ple of church-state separation, and we welcome it — 
without chortles. Catholic parents have every right to 
choose parochial education for their children. But there 
is no constitutional guarantee that such private schooling 
be supported by everybody's tax dollars. We have to 
admire the strength of Catholic parents' conviction that 
religiously oriented education is important to their 
children. (Goodness knows all too few Protestants are 
fully attentive to the Christian education of their own 
children.) But we feel also that Catholic parents' desire 
for their children to have this special schooling should 
be accompanied by a willingness to pay for it. 



As Protestants welcoming the new court ruling as a 
reinforcement of our belief in the separation of church 
and state, we would do well to remind ourselves that 
it is a principle which applies to all Americans. If we 
like to see it applied to prevent parochial schools having 
access to public funds, we should acknowledge that the 
principle is no less valid when the Supreme Court says 
that the Constitution prevents a state-run school from 
fostering religious exercises in its classrooms. If the 
principle has validity in one case, it must have validity 
in all. 

It would be fair for Protestants to admit that the 
Catholic school emerged in U.S. history as a defense 
mechanism against Protestant domination of the public 
life of many communities, including the public schools. 
Even yet in many localities where they are a large 
majority, Protestants have trouble resisting the temptation 
to believe that the public school system is in fact "ours" 
and that a prayer or a Bible reading or a devotional 
exercise which suits them and their children ought to 
be acceptable to everybody. 

Catholic leaders and state legislators working with them 
(out of what must be various and sundry motives) have 
tried a variety of ways to secure public funds to aid 
parochial education. Some of the methods — providing bus 
transportation, textbooks, and auxiliary services — have 
been approved by the courts. Now that the tax credit and 
tuition reimbursement plans have been denied, other new 
ideas no doubt will be sought. We trust the courts to 
decide if the new plans are acceptable under the Con- 
stitution. 

If the court ultimately holds that there are ways for 
public money to be used legitimately in the public 
interest to help educate children in nonpublic schools, 
fine. Protestants have no reason to want all Catholic 
schools to close, and they should be willing to accept 
such a court ruling as they now expect Catholics to 
accept the decision which went against them. In the 
meanwhile, it might be well to avoid overreacting to 
such stridencies as one Catholic leader's description of 
the Supreme Court ruling as "a terrible blow at our 
American tradition of freedom in the important area of 
education." 

What seems most important is that neither Protestants 
nor Catholics should forget where we are now as fellow 
Christians compared to where we once were. A mere 15, 
no 12, years ago American Catholics and Protestants 
viewed each other with mutual suspicion, distrust, even 
fear. We have come a long way since then, thanks mainly 
to the efforts and the spirit of a venerable old Italian 
whose memory both Protestants and Catholics bless. 

Let us not permit all of the positive change that has 
happened in these past dozen years to be dissipated in 
tit-for-tat exchanges of bitterness over the school issue. 
We must be honest with each other about our real 
differences, of course. But we can do that without raising 
our voices. — Your Editors 



August-September 1973 TOGETHER 




Two languages and three cultural back- 
grounds show in the features of these at- 
tractive young Texans. As children, perhaps, 
their difficulties in learning, communicating, 
and becoming friends are not as great on 
the playground as they will be in the class- 
room and later in life. To help such children 
bridge the cultural gaps, Dos Mundos Schools 
of Corpus Christi have established a pro- 
gram of innovative, creative, and individual- 
ized education for children ages three to 
nine. [See the pictorial on pages 24-27] 



STAFF 

Acting Editorial Director and Acting 

Editor: Paige Car/in 
Associate Editors: Herman B. Teeter, 

Helen Johnson, Martha A. Lane, 

James F. Campbell, Sandra ieneau 
Art Editor: Robert C. Gou 
Picture Editor: George P. Miller 
News Editor: John A. Lovelace 
Assistants: Lynda Campo and 

Debra Beachy (news), 

June M. Schwanke (research), 

Debra Davies (production) 
Contributing Editors: James S. Thomas, 

Dale White 
Business-Circulation Manager: 

Warren P. Clark 
Advertising Manager: John H. Fisher 
Fulfillment Manager: Jack I. Inman 
Publisher: John E. Procter 




AUGUST-SEPTEMBER 1973 



FEATURES 



Welcoming a Ruling- 
Without Chortles 
Viewpoint 



'By All Means — 
Spread the Word!' 
Martha A. Lane 




14 Alone Over the Atlantic 
Herman B. Teeter 




18 I Remember Our Country 
Church 
Mar/one Todd Graham 




20 Serenity From the Stars 
Mary Margaret Kern 



21 Bioethics: The Questions 
Are Getting Tougher 
Bruce Hilton 



TOGETHER August-September 1973 

Vol. XVII. No. 8 Copyright © 1973 
by The United Methodist Publishing Housfe 
TOGETHER is published monthly except com- 
bined issue of August and September by 
The United Methodist Publishing House at 
201 Eighth Ave. S., Nashville, Tenn. 37202, 
where second class postage has been paid. 
The above address is the location of the 
Business and Subscription Offices (Phone 



[Area 615] 749-6405) and the Advertising 
Office (Phone [Area 615] 749-6141). 
Subscription: $5 a year in advance, single 
copy 50«. TOGETHER CHURCH PLAN subscrip 
tions through United Methodist churches are 
$4 per year, cash in advance, or $1 per 
quarter, billed quarterly. Change of Address: 
Five weeks advance notice is required. Send 
old and new addresses and label from 
curre/it issue to Subscription Office. Adver- 



tising: Write Advertising Office for rates. 
Editorial Submissions: Address all cor- 
respondence to Editorial Office, TOGETHER, 
1661 N. Northwest Hwy., Park Ridge, III. 
60068 (Phone (Area 312] 299-4411). No 
responsibility can be assumed for loss of 
or damage to unsolicited manuscripts, art, 
or photographs. 

Postmaster: Send Form 3579 to TOGETHER, 
201 Eighth Ave. S., Nashville, Tenn. 37202. 



Au|$usl -September 1973 TOGETHER 



24 Dos Mundos Schools: 

Bridging Language and Culture 
Co/or Pictorial 
Helen Johnson 



Jottings 




28 Getting Out of the Yes-Trap 
Robin Worthington 



33 Are You Good Enough 
for Heaven? 
Raymond W. Gibson, Jr. 



36 Give Your Child 

the Gift of Dreaming 
Julius Segal 



39 A Morning at Ebenezer 
Mary Ella Stuart 



41 Cable TV: Why Is 

the Church So Interested? 
Helen Johnson 



49 Through My Eyes 
Lula Lamme 



DEPARTMENTS 



3 Jottings / 10 News 
30 People / 32 You 
Asked . . . / 35 Say It! 
44 Kaleidoscope 

46 Letters 

47 Illustration Credits 

48 Letters From Elsewhere 




Only a few years ago one of the 
articles in this issue would have 
been considered either a spoof or 
simply wild-eyed science fiction. 

But the Rev. Bruce Hilton's article, 
Bioethics: The Questions Are Getting 
Tougher [page 21] approaches the 
subject rather conservatively, if 
somewhat apprehensively. Watch- 
ing scientists attempting to play God 
with life itself has caused many to 
anticipate almost insoluble moral 
dilemmas ahead. 

Where will it lead? From test- 
tube babies to genetic engineering 
that would enable scientists to create 
multiple copies of a single individual? 

How about a thousand Hitlers? Or, 
on the other hand, a thousand Ein- 
steins? Or a thousand saints? 

Last February, Bruce Hilton was 
associate for publications with the 
Institute of So- 
ciety, Ethics and 
the Life Sciences 
in New York 
State. Toward the 
end of the month 
he wrote: "I'm 
leaving the Insti- 
tute to concen- 
trate for a while 
on a major con- 
cern of mine: writing and speaking 
for the general public about the 
issues involved in biomedical ad- 
vances." Since then he has estab- 
lished a magazine, Genetic Counsel- 
ing, with an editorial board of 
distinguished doctors and biologists. 

Mr. Hilton, who lives in New 
Jersey, is a member of the Minne- 
sota Conference of The United 
Methodist Church. Born in Plymouth, 
Wis., he worked on newspapers in 
Indianapolis and Dayton, Ohio, 
and studied for the ministry at 
United Theological Seminary in the 
latter city. He was an editor of youth 
publications for the former Evan- 
gelical United Brethren Church and 
is the author of four books. Each of 
his books has grown out of his own 
interests and experiences — human 
and race relations, the Delta Min- 
istry with which he served, aviation 
(he earned his pilot's license as a 
member of a Dayton flying club 
called the SoarheadsJ, and his study 
of the biomedical revolution. 

Every time someone complains 
that members of our younger gen- 
eration lack initiative, ambition, 
courage, and the spirit of adventure 



— well, we can only point to such 
as Rex Damschroder of Bowling 
Green, Ohio, subject of Alone Over 
the Atlantic [page 14]. 

Rex, by the way, has contracted 
to fly yet another missionary plane — 
his fifth — to Africa early this fall. 

"You can be sure I'll never take 
the South Atlantic route again," he 
says. His reasons are clear enough 
in his account of a harrowing Christ- 
mas Eve flight last year. 

We haven't talked with Mary Ella 
Stuart [see her A Morning at Eb- 
enezer, page 39] since her husband 
was elected bishop in 1964, but we 
vividly recall her charm, kindness, 
and sensitivity. Says Bishop R. Marvin 
Stuart: "She loves to cook, to work 
in the garden, and to entertain. She 
doesn't like the idea of a bishop's 
wife being entertained always by 
others. She wants people to come to 
her own home." 

As you will gather from / Remem- 
ber Our Country Church [page 18], 
the family of Mrs. Marjorie Todd 
Graham moves around the country a 
great deal. After one of her hus- 
band's transfers, she prepared to 
drive to join him after the school 
term. 

"I'm notorious for getting lost," 
she tells us. "Picturing myself 
vaguely wandering midwestern roads 
... 1 wondered if Dad shouldn't fly 
back to Connecticut to drive us out. 
But our oldest said in her practical 
way: 'I think you should do it. 
Daddy's not used to us any more, 
and he couldn't stand such a long 
trip with the three of us fighting in 
the back seat.' 

He came trudging in one day back 
in 1959, a Colorado farm boy with 
unusual qualities: wide experience on 
both city and small-town newspapers, 
an intense devotion to his church, 
and a seemingly unlimited capacity 
for hard work. We believed then that 
Paige Carlin was destined to play a 
larger role in religious journalism. 

Recently appointed acting editor 
of Together and acting editorial 
director of general church periodi- 
cals, he succeeds Dr. Curtis A. 
Chambers who moves on to become 
execute director of the Joint Com- 
mittee on Communications. 

Mr. Carlin, at 44, has served as 
managing editor of Together since 
1964. — Your Editors 



August-September 1973 TOGETHER 



First Church, Collingswood, New Jersey.. 



'By All Means 





This 1 ,350-member congregation is in a 
conservative, mostly white town just 12 minutes 
by train southeast of downtown Philadelphia. 
Working hard to meet the needs of members 
and neighbors alike, the church sponsors a storefront 
mission in nearby Camden and heavily supports 
many missions projects. Guiding the congregation 
are the Rev. Philip Everett Worth (far right); his 
wife and co-Bible teacher, "Dot" (above); 
two part-time pastors who minister to the sick, 
shut-ins, and elderly; and a full-time 
youth director. 



FIRST United Methodist Church of Collingswood, 
N.J., is a church of tradition, patriotic pride, and 
strict moral and dogmatic principles. Many classes 
and services have changed little in purpose and form 
in half a century; patriotic anthems are met with fervent 
"Amens," and church-school teachers must accept the 
infallibility of the Bible and refrain from smoking and 
drinking. 

First Church also is a loving, feeling, giving, growing 
church. It started and maintains an effective store- 
front mission in a poor black section of nearby Camden. 
It fulfills all its World Service and other United Method- 
ist apportionments and gives additional large sums to 
nondenominational, evangelical missions projects and to 
missionary couples and individuals in the U.S., Africa, 
Europe, Asia, and South America. It reaches scores of 
neighborhood youth through basketball, special social 
programs, and in-the-community witnessing. More than 
100 individual members of the congregation have gone 
into full-time Christian service in its 87-year history. 



August-September 1973 TOGETHER 



ipread the Word!' 



Text by Martha A. Lane 
Pictures by George P. Miller 







Collingswood, incorporated as a borough of Haddon 
Township in 1888, and the then Methodist Episcopal 
congregation grew up together. In fact, many Method- 
ists have served as miyors, councilmen, and other city 
leaders, a fact which partially accounts for Collings- 
wood's history as a dry, closed-on-Sunday community. 

The text for the congregation's first sermon, preached 
in January, 1887, was Philippians 4:19: "And my Cod 
will supply every need of yours according to his riches 
in glory in Christ Jesus." Through the depression years, 
fire, and other hard times, say Collingswood members, 
God has been faithful to his Word. 

Today the 1,350-member congregation sees itself 
primarily as "a center of missions and evangelism." 
Basically that boils down to getting people to the church 
for all kinds of worship and study experiences and send- 
ing both members and money to missions fields at home 
and abroad. 

Church school always has been a very important part 
of the congregation's life. In the 1920s, more than 



1,100 would turn out for the afternoon Sunday-school 
sessions. Today's average attendance is much below 
that, but many other congregations would rejoice to hit 
First Church's mark of 500 nearly every week. 

There is a place for everyone, regardless of age, in 
the church school. The program is administered by a 
general superintendent, Paul Shaerer, and four depart- 
mental superintendents — for children, junior-highs, 
senior-highs, and adults. 

"Every teacher is handpicked," Superintendent Shaerer 
explains. "The senior minister, the superintendent, and 
the minister of education ask questions of each teacher 
candidate, about doctrine, their beliefs, and so on. Se- 
lecting teachers is done with a lot of prayer." 

Some classes are team-taught while others have indi- 
vidual leaders. There are 13 adult classes. While the 
church-school hour is 9:45 to 10:45 on Sunday morn- 
ings, many classes also have regular socials. 

Worship is important to Collingswood members, too. 
Two identical Sunday morning services draw nearly 700 



■H 



Augiftt-September 1973 TOGETHER 




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The Wesleys undoubtedly would be pleased by the lusty congregational singing of their 
hymns in Collingswood. The ministry of music includes five vocal choirs and two English handbell choirs. 
On Sunday evenings a "pick-up" orchestra accompanies the congregation, continuing a 60-year 
church-orchestra tradition. Here's Harry Knisell on the tuba. 



Augusl-Septembor 1973 TOGETHER 



worshipers regularly. There are five vocal choirs and two 
English handbell choirs. The sermons are expository and 
the entire service is unapologetically evangelical. Sun- 
day evening services are marked by lusty congregational 
singing to the accompaniment of the church orchestra, 
special music, and more preaching. Summer Sunday 
evening services feature guest speakers or other special 
programs. This year's, for example, ran from the presen- 
tation of Lightshine, a contemporary musical by the 
senior-high youth, to a sermon by the president of Phil- 
adelphia College of Bible. 

The airing of the 11 a.m. Sunday worship service on 
radio station WTMR is one of several ministries of the 
church's evangelism commission. Regarded primarily as 
a shut-in ministry, it reaches an estimated listening 
audience of 10,000. This year the commission helped 
originate an area-wide Ford Philpot crusade as a Key 73 
program. It brought the Billy Graham film Time to Run 
to neighborhood theaters, then urged church members 
to take their unchurched friends to the movie. 

The church's visitation program is another major re- 
sponsibility of the evangelism commission. Members are 
trained in 12 to 14 weekly sessions to go out in twos to 
visit ir homes. (A recent series had 70 trainees.) "We 
call on people who visit our church and who have no 
other church home," explains Dave Duffey, evangelism 
commission chairman. "Our primary purpose is not to 
get them to join our church but to introduce them to 
Christ." 

Evangelism is the goal of most youth programs at Col- 
lingswood. Since June, 1972, Dick Esher has been full- 
time youth director. He oversees King's Kadets, a pro- 
gram for primary graders which is led by teen-agers; 
Crusaders, an adult-led program for grades 4, 5, and 6; 
junior and senior-high groups. 

The junior-high group is "growing like crazy," Dick 
reports. Senior-highs meet right after the evening church 
service, and about 20 meet also on Monday evenings for 
prayer and Bible study. During the summer the young 
people witness in city parks and shopping malls. 

"Basketball is our biggest outreach program right 
now," the youth director says. "I'd say 75 percent of the 
participants are unchurched or are Roman Catholics. 
Each team has an adult coach from the church. Some- 
time during the season the coach will get alone with 
each guy and tell him about Christ. This is why we 
opened the church to the kids, to tell them about Christ. 
About 100 boys play basketball and we have about two 
dozen or so girl cagers." 

A poster in one of First Church's classrooms reads, 
"By all means — all the Word to all the World." It is a 
good summary of both the congregation's goals and its 
mode of operation. "Mission is something that begins 
at home," says Pastor Worth, the senior minister. "Most 
people think of it as something that happens in Africa or 
South America. I think it begins right here. I look upon 
Collingswood as being Jerusalem." His people agree. 

"Jerusalem" missions work includes a Tuesday morn- 
ing Bible study for all women of the community taught 
by the pastor's wife, Dot. Her class regularly draws 200 
or more women of varied church and no-church back- 
grounds, many of whom are mothers of small children. 

"I just live for this meeting," Mrs. Maranda Lechner, 
who has attended for two years, told us. "Dot brings 




"Basketball is our biggest outreach program right 
now," says Dick Esher, youth director and sometime 
referee. He supervises a practice session above. 
About TOO boys and 25 girls are involved. 



AugiKt-Septcmbcr 1973 TOGETHER 



nDJH 



■i 




One reason the Collingswood church is financially successful is that people always 

know how their money is being spent. Members of these ladies' church-school class, as an example, 

may designate their offering in at least four different ways. 



out so much that we didn't even know was in the Bible. 
She brings it up to our time. I came alone at first, but 
now I bring a car full." 

Fellowship House, another at-home missions project, 
is the small storefront which the Collingswood church 
sponsors in South Camden. Formerly a dry-cleaning es- 
tablishment, it now provides Bible study and recreational 
opportunities for about 250 different youngsters every 
week. In order to have space for everyone in the small 
building, activities are divided according to age groups: 
Monday, kindergarten and first grade; Tuesday morning, 
mothers club; Tuesday afternoon, fourth and fifth grades; 
Tuesday evening, junior-highs; Wednesday, third grade; 
Thursday, second grade; and so on. In the evenings fel- 
lowship groups meet for further training in Christian 
growth, handicrafts, and special activities. On Fridays, for 
example, high-school girls receive teachers training. 

Fellowship House is a reality today because of Milton 
Townsend's love for Camden's inner-city people. Now 
in his 80s and still active at First Church, Mr. Townsend 
has spent a lifetime caring for the inner city, particu- 
larly through his work in the Camden Missionary Society. 
Mr. Townsend's interests aroused the imagination of 
Fran Casperson, another First Church member. For eight 
years she has been at the organizational helm of Fellow- 
ship House. She first interested her fellow church mem- 
bers, then other denominations, then community or- 



ganizations, in supporting Fellowship House. 

About 60 people from First Church currently do 
tutoring at the storefront. Eight different denominations 
now are involved in the work. A hospital sends a staff 
person to talk with mothers about health needs, and a 
college extension-service person explains budgeting and 
related problems. 

A black seminarian, Samuel Smith, lives with his wife, 
Helene, and their young son in the apartment above 
Fellowship House. Sam teaches second-grade and senior- 
high Bible classes at the center, also does extensive home 
visitation. Helene, a musician, directs the Fellowship 
House choir (they have a worship service every Sunday), 
teaches piano, and helps youngsters with individual 
needs. "This is not like a job," she says. "It's a full-time 
ministry. I would like to see the people in this com- 
munity learn to enjoy life, find the wholesome things 
in life. Most of these people don't really have anything 
to live for. Liquor is such a problem here; there are 
frequent murders; there have been riots." 

Regardless of the activity, the storefront's first emphasis 
is sharing God's Word. For example, every bag of 
clothes that goes out has a tract or a Scripture portion 
in it; one week the mothers club sews, the next they 
have Bible study. Bible teachers include both men and 
women from First Church, black mothers from the 
neighborhood, and even volunteers from Collingswood 



August-September 1973 TOGETHER 



Manor, a United Methodist home. One teacher from the 
home, an 83-year-old, says working at Fellowship House 
is the greatest Christian experience of her life. 

"There are a hundred things Christians have found 
they can do through Fellowship House," says Fran 
Casperson. "It's the Book of Acts all over again — the 
Holy Spirit changes lives. We're just the channels. I say 
to people, This is normal Christianity. God's people 
should care. Jesus said to go and tell. When you do, 
there are some people who believe." 

First Church's commission on missions is able to ac- 
complish what most churches only dream of. Their 
church budget tells the story. The current budget totals 
$178,845, of which $61,179 is for missions: national 
missions, $20,900; foreign, $24,600; other benevolences 
including World Service, $15,679. Their secret, says 
commission chairman Kenneth Kaighn, is that they per- 
sonalize missions — they give the congregation an oppor- 
tunity to know the people they're supporting. 

While most missions money goes through regular 
Methodist channels, the church also supports many non- 
United Methodist projects. Central Alaskan Missions 
(CAM) in Glennallen is one such example. CAM was 
founded in 1936 by the late Rev. Vincent J. Joy, who 
was converted at First Church and went into the min- 
istry from there. The church has supported CAM's four- 
fold ministry of village work, a hospital, a radio station, 
and a Bible college ever since. 

The congregation is literally in constant touch with 
their mission fields. Mission Missile, a newsletter con- 
taining excerpts from missionaries' letters and news of 
current needs, goes to the entire membership. (Every 
missionary receiving support from the church is required 
to make a written report at least once a year.) Each 
October the congregation's week-long missionary, con- 
ference brings dozens of missionaries and special speak- 
ers to Collingswood. The program features special ac- 
tivities for youth, women, men, and children, as well 
as nightly worship services. 

During the 1971 missionary conference, a Faith 
Promise program was initiated. People pledged to give 
a specific sum in 15 weeks, over and above their 
regular pledge, for special missionary needs. Last year's 
Faith Promise raised more than $13,000. 

Everyone in the church gives to missions. The pennies 
donated by children at Fellowship House (last year's 
total was $120) go to work in Africa, South America, 
and New York. Seventy-two high-school youth and 
their counselors last winter raised $2,800 for a missionary 
couple going to Nigeria. Many church-school classes 
also have special missions projects. 

No age group is overlooked at First Church. Leisure 
Time, a program basically for retired people, has more 
than 200 members. They go on frequent trips, thanks to 
the church bus, and get together monthly at the church 
for an inexpensive hot lunch and a special program. 

Because the church seems sincerely willing to help 
everyone, people are willing to help the church. H. 
Nelson Gray, a founder of Leisure Time and who is 
"only" 85 years old, is a fitting example. "Shortly before 
I retired I said, Lord, you give me health and strength 
and I'll give you my time after I'm retired," he explains 
almost shyly. He has been keeping the church's books 
ever since. □ 




Fellowship House is a center of Bible study in 
nearby Camden. It was begun by First Church; now 
receives help from seven other denominations. 
In spite of very limited space, the tidy, efficiently 
run center serves 250 young people weekly. 



August-September 1973 TOGETHER 



LAITY CONFERENCE: 

REAL ENTHUSIASM FOR 

MORE OF THE SAME 



RECEIPTS INCREASE 

FOR CHURCH'S 

GENERAL PROGRAMS 



OVERSEAS MISS IONERS 
ENCOURAGED TO SEEK 
ADDITIONAL SUPPORT 



MEWS 



United Methodism's first National Conference of Laity in 
mid-July was a disappointment in numbers but a success in its 
mix of men, women, and youth and a smash in its enthusiasm for 
more of the same. Like its predecessor men-only quadrennial 
conferences, this one met on the spacious campus of Purdue 
University, West Lafayette, Ind. Likewise it featured preaching, 
worship services, Bible study, small discussion groups, 
provocative drama, and exposure to general church programs and 
personnel. New this time was a session on creative play. 
Registration hit approximately 3,000, and the conference seemed 
likely to break even financially despite a rush of late 
cancellations which one conference official said might have been 
caused, in part, by men boycotting any conference with women and 
youth. An estimated one third of the participants were women, 
and some 500 youth attended. Several families came on vacation. 
At the final Sunday morning session the General Board of 
Discipleship announced that it has placed a tentative hold on 
the Purdue facilities for a similar conference in 1977. 

Support of worldwide United Methodist benevolent and 
administrative programs gained some $2 million for the first 
half of 1973 over the same period a year ago, according to 
R. Bryan Brawner, general treasurer of the denomination. 
Largest increase was to the United Methodist Committee on Relief, 
up 1 04 percent. In other fiscal news, reports are that United 
Methodists are investing less in their national development fund 
which makes loans to churches for building purposes. One official 
explained that investors can get higher rates from banks and 
other financial institutions, but this helps the United Methodist 
Development Fund, too, since it also can earn more on its funds. 
The fund will continue to pay investors 6? percent and charge 
borrowing churches 7i percent, at least through December 31- 
The Board of Pensions recently approved initial steps toward 
establishing a tax-deferred annuity program as a possible 
supplement to retirement income for ministers and church lay 
workers. And a general insurance program announced in late 
spring by the Council on Finance and Administration was 
averaging about 100 requests per day for quotations on casualty 
and workmen's compensation insurance. A program of individual 
insurance—property , auto--for ministers and church lay workers 
is still being developed. Finally, Pax World Fund, begun two 
years ago with Board of Church and Society staffers as its 
principal officers, announced a cash dividend of 20( per share 
and was rated among the top 15 percent of U.S. mutual funds in 
terms of performance. 

There are several causes for decline in United Methodism's 
number of overseas missionaries, but the main cause right now 
is lack of funds, according to the Rev. John F. Schaefer, 
associate general secretary, World Division, Board of Global 
Ministries. The World Division, which has established 922 as 
the minimum number of missionaries needed, has appealed to the 
missionaries to solicit missionary support across the church, 
primarily among their own const i tuents .... El sewhere, Methodists 
of the Geneva Area and the Northern Europe Area report 
emphasizing ministries as varied as evangelism, lay training, 



10 August-September 1973 TOGETHER 



YOUNG DELEGATE 
VOTES TO REMOVED 
AGE BARRIER 



CHURCH HISTORIAN 

FORESEES RELIGION 

AS CENTRAL IN '70s 



ANNUAL CONFERENCES 

APPARENTLY REJECT 

TWO AMENDMENTS 



making the local church more effective, services to aged and 
youth in trouble, and overseas mi ss ionar ies ... .Despite 
violence in Northern Ireland, the Irish Methodist Conference 
set a record in 1972 for overseas missions giving and voted to 
hold a consultation with Catholics in September. 




A vote to remove the age barrier for lay delegates to general, 
jurisdictional, or central conferences was cast by Don Symington, 
19, as he represented two churches on one charge in recent North 
Dakota Annual Conference sessions. Average age of the persons he 
represented is about 50. 

A professor of modern church history predicted recently that 
religion will be the central force shaping American culture in 
the 1970s. Dr. Martin E. Marty of the University of Chicago 
also predicted that a great deal of pro-and-con talk on Watergate, 
for example, "will turn out to be explicitly religious--a 
discussion of morality, guilt, and the purpose of life." United 
Methodists were among those proving the immediate truth of Dr. 
Marty's observations. Several annual conferences adopted 
statements on Watergate. Southern California-Arizona acknowledged 
"our guilt as individuals and as a religious community in our 
failure to both see and confront the pervasiveness of dishonesty 
and corruption in our society." Bishop Roy C. Nichols of the 
Pittsburgh Area said, "Watergate was possible because too few 
people had too much power, too much money, too much secrecy, and 
too little accountabi 1 ity. . . .On ly God, because of his inherent 
goodness, can be trusted with absolute power. Every human 
enterprise must be kept under the scrutiny of continuous 
accountability." Members of Troy Conference in New York and 
Vermont urged federal and state public representatives "to put 
forth special efforts to establish honesty and legality in 
government." New York Conference urged that public investigation 
with full disclosure of all the evidence continue through its 
natural course of procedure. 

Annual conferences in early summer sessions apparently supported 
six proposed amendments to the United Methodist constitution and 
rejected two, but the final canvass by the Council of Bishops will 
come in November. Reports indicated the necessary aggregate 
two-thirds majority of all conferences favoring removal of 
masculine language from the constitution; elimination of minimum 
age for general, jurisdictional, and central conference delegates; 
equalization of the number of lay-clergy members of annual 
conferences; and paving the way for possible autonomy of the 
Puerto Rico Conference. Conferences rejected attempts to permit 
General Conference to be held every two years and to allow lay 
persons to vote on ministers' relations to annual conferences. 



August-September 197T TOGETHER 



11 



OKLAHOMA CITY 
CHURCH DEBT-FREE^ 
ON BUILDING 



UNITED METHODISTS 

IN THE 

NEWS 



Restructuring was a big item for one third of the conferences, 
bringing many conference structures in line with general -church 
structure. At least 15 conferences approved restructuring, 
effective either immediately or this year. Several emphasized 
programming at the district level. Amnesty resolutions brought 
close votes in some cases, but five conferences supported full 
amnesty for persons refusing military service in Viet Nam. 
Abortion was also considered in several conferences with mixed 
reactions and results. Mississippi conferences completed formal 
merger of black and white units, marking the end of segregated 
United Methodist structures. The new North Mississippi 
Conference chose some blacks to head agencies, but the 
Mississippi Conference chose board chairmen only from the former 
white conference. North Indiana blacks, meanwhile, asked for 
greater visibility in their conference structure. Other actions 
affecting minorities included approval of a Mexican-American 
ministry in Kansas West, and Iowa Conference assistance in 
establishing an Indian development center in Des Moines. 



The debt was paid off recently 
on the impressive, tower-topped 
building serving St. Luke's United 
Methodist Church, Oklahoma City. 
The antique car behind Bishop Paul 
W. Milhouse (left) and the senior 
minister, the Rev. Irving L. Smith, 
was part of a parade symbolizing 
the years that have rolled by since 
the congregation was organized. 



Recently named acting editor of Together and acting editorial 
director of general church periodicals is F. Paige Car 1 in , kk , 
managing editor of Together since 1964 and a staff member since 
1959. A permanent successor to the Rev. Curtis A. Chambers will 
be chosen by the General Board of Publication in October. Dr. 
Chambers left the periodicals staff in July to become first 
executive secretary of the United Methodist Joint Committee on 
Commun icat ions. .. .First full-time executive secretary of 
Methodists Associated Representing the Cause of Hispanic 
Americans is the Rev. Josafat F. Curti of Pueblo, Colo.... New 
president of the National Association of Church Business 
Administrators is John Lockridge , business administrator at St. 
Luke's Church, Oklahoma City.... Mrs. John E. Hutchinson of Los 
Angeles recently became the first woman to receive the Lay Person 
of the Year award from the Southern California-Arizona Annual 
Conference. .. .New director of United Methodism's Asian Caucus is 
The Rev. Jonah J. Chang , formerly a pastor in Alameda, Calif.... 
Mrs. J. C. Penney was recently elected an honorary life member of 
the American Bible Society. She and her late husband were 
benefactors of the society. .. .Recently featured in separate 
stories in the Detroit Free Press were the Rev. Lewis L. Redmond 
for his 21-year ministry in the inner city and Mrs. Joyce Hughey , 
portrait artist and mother of seven who developed a cartoon 
series featuring the hand of God ... .Brentwood Church, Nashville, 
recently received an organ given as a memorial to her mother by 
Mrs. Henry Cannon , better known as Cousin Minnie Pearl of the 
Grand Ole Opry. .. .United Methodist-related Hendrix College in 
Conway, Ark. , wi 1 1 establ ish a $k mill ion Wi lbur D. Mills Center 
for the Study of Social Sciences, honoring its alumnus and 
trustee and chairman of the House Ways and Means Committee. 




12 



\ugUSI ! eptl nil,, r 1973 KX.ETHtK 



MILLION 



• United Methodists provide some 
of the vital needs of more than a 
million children each day. 

• The needs of the world's children 
call for increased support. 

• Help complete the puzzle by pro- 
viding an Advance Special gift. 

• Every dollar given goes for the j 
care of the child. 

• Administrative and promotional I 



overheads are cared for by World '* 
Service and One Great Hour Of 
Sharing. 

Will you care for one in a million? } 

[ 

You can choose where, how, and t, 

in what way your gift will be trans 

formed into care and hope. 



Herewith is my gift of $ 



Name- 



Street. 
City 



I 



Church_ 




I would like my gift to be used in the area checked on the puzzle. 

I would like my gift to be used in the type of program checked in 
the puzzle. 

Please designate my gift through □ UMCOR, □ National Division, 
□ World Division. 

Please send further details on the United Methodist Child Support 
program. I am particularly interested in finding out more about 



-Conference 



DETACH AND RETURN PAGE 



August-September 1973 TOGETHER 13 











AliOKE OVER THE ATLANTIC 



By Herman B. Teeter 

Associate Editor, Together 



LATE ON THE NIGHT of December 24, 1972, a light- 
plane took off from Recife, Brazil, and headed out 
across the South Atlantic on a 2,000-mile, nonstop 
solo flight unprecedented in missionary aviation history. 

The pilot, a 23-year-old college student, was com- 
pletely on his own. There are no islands, no weather sta- 
tions, no radio homing beacons across this vast expanse 
of the South Atlantic. He would navigate by the stars 
or the moon — if the sky was clear — and he would be 
fighting tricky head winds. 

His destination: Monrovia, Liberia, on Africa's west 
coast. Purpose of the flight: to ferry another Cessna 180, 
.i single-engine landplane, to a flying missionary of The 
United Methodist Church. 

Rex Damschroder of Fremont, Ohio, stairstepped the 
plane through nighttime cloud layers to 9,000 feet, the 



altitude he hoped to maintain. Behind him the lights of 
Recife faded away into the dark bulk of South America. 
Now his life depended on the six-cylinder, 230-horse- 
power engine of the sturdy little all-aluminum six-seater, 
a plane similar to three others he had flown to African 
missionaries in the summer and fall of 1971. 

But the previous flights all had been across well- 
charted northern and central Atlantic routes followed 
by the giant transocean jets. These had been so well 
monitored and weather mapped that he had felt as safe 
as he would at home in bed. At this time of year, how- 
ever, the stormy North Atlantic was out of the question 
for a lightplane because of possible icing. It was the 
South Atlantic or nothing, and the mission plane was 
urgently needed in Liberia. 

Aboard the Cessna, jamming the pilot's seat into for- 



14 



AuRUst-Scpti-mbpr VI I II )(,l llll K 



ward position, were two 55-gallon tanks of 100-octane 
fuel to more than double the range of the plane. It 
cruised now at 150 miles an hour, the stars dimmed by 
moonlight. 

"The moon isn't the best heavenly body for naviga- 
tion," Rex said, "but I had to use it to obtain a rough 
celestial fix on my position." 

Flying on instruments, out of touch with the world, 
with no hope of ever being found should the plane go 
down, he had no way of knowing that a violent line of 
thunderstorms was building up along the equator — di- 
rectly in his line of flight. 

At 1 a.m. Christmas morning, Rex knew he was still 
well southwest of the equator, flying over water nearly 
three miles deep in places. His was possibly the only 
aircraft — commercial or private — in hundreds of miles. 

Around 2 a.m., he saw the first sullen, explosive flaring 
of lightning in the distance. A licensed pilot since he was 
16, veteran of more than 4,000 hours flying time, in good 
weather and bad, Rex knew that thunderstorms are 
among the greatest dangers a pilot faces. 

"You don't climb over a 40,000-foot thunderhead in a 
light prop plane," he explained. "I had no radar to help 
me pick my way through the storm, no control-tower 
operator to tell me the extent of the disturbance. If I 
tried to go around, I might end up hundreds of miles 
off course without enough fuel to reach land." 

He flew straight ahead — and plunged into the storm. 

Solid sheets of water battered the Cessna. Flying blind 
in heavy turbulence, the little plane was tossed about 
like a kite on a blustery day. 

Then, around 3 a.m., somewhere near the equator, the 
rain became so intense that the Cessna's engine's air 
intake was drowned out. The engine sputtered and died. 

Back in Sandusky County, Ohio, when he was a first- 
grader growing up on a 160-acre farm, Rex Damschroder 
took his first flight in an old plane purchased by his 
father, a World War II navy pilot. His father, Gene, who 
last year ran successfully for his first term as a member of 
the state legislature, later established Progress Field, an 
excellent airport near Fremont. At 13, the boy took the 
controls of a plane for the first time, and he was ready 
to solo on his 16th birthday. 

Only a few days after that birthday flight alone, Rex's 
father handed him a map and told him to go to Wichita, 
Kans., to pick up a new plane and fly it back alone to 
Fremont. "It was the big thrill of my life, bringing that 
plane all 800 miles back from Wichita on my second solo 
flight," says Rex. 

Brown-haired and blue-eyed, Rex stands slightly less 
than six feet tall, with a build slightly less than husky. 
His background is Lutheran — although he now feels "at 
least half Methodist" — and he is described by acquaint- 
ances as possessing an acute sense of responsibility. In 
the Damschroder tradition he has been able to make his 
own way in the world since boyhood. He has worked 



as a crop duster in the Sandusky County area, building 
up hundreds of flying hours and paying his way through 
nearby Bowling Green State University where he majored 
in geography. In high school at Fremont he won the 
school's first varsity letter in cross-country running, and 
as a senior was president of the student body. 

"When Rex was a small boy," his mother says, "we 
nicknamed him 'Nine Lives' because of his venturesome 
daredevil nature. But all that changes when he takes off 
in a plane. He's a safe and responsible pilot, not a show- 
off who would buzz his girl friend's house, for example." 
(Rex was married last September, by the way, to a Fre- 
mont girl.) He has two older sisters and a younger 
brother and sister. Each member of the Damschroder 
family, including the mother, has a pilot's license. 

Flying planes to missionaries in Africa is a compara- 




Between transocean hops ferrying lightplanes to 
missionaries in Africa, Rex Damschroder goes back 
to the classroom at Bowling Creen State University. 
A skilled aerial photographer as well as a pilot, he took 
the flight picture on page 14 with a camera on a fixed 
mount in the cockpit. To snap the color picture on 
page 17, he hand-held his camera as the sun broke 
through storm clouds after a turbulent night flight. 




Augu-st-September 1073 TOGETHER -|5 



tively new thing, says Harp/ Greenberg, associate treas- 
urer of the World Division of the United Methodist 
Board of Global Ministries, who hired Rex to pilot the 
first three planes — named Phoenix I, II, and /// — to the 
Congo region (now Zaire). The first two went across the 
well-traveled North Atlantic route in the summer of 1971. 
Rex received permission to skip classes for a week to 
deliver Phoenix III that October. 

Methodist missionaries have used small planes in Africa 
for several years, of course, but in the past, Mr. Green- 
berg explained, it was the custom to fly them to New 
Orleans, dismantle them, and send them to Africa via 
ship. 

"We found the cost would be no more to fly the 
planes to Africa instead of shipping them," Mr. Green- 
berg said. "They would arrive in better condition for not 
having been disassembled and subjected to ocean travel." 

Once in the hands of missionary pilots, the light but 
rugged planes are used to carry the sick to hospitals; 
take pastors, missionaries, and other workers to field 
assignments; get representatives to district and confer- 
ence meetings; cart freight in and out of the bush coun- 
try; and stand ready for emergencies. 

"Someday newly emerging countries will have plenty 
of roads and good methods of transportation," Mr. 
Greenberg continued. "But until that day arrives, the 
small, single-engine plane remains the best means of 
getting in and out of remote church centers which serve 
such a vital need." 

When word came that Liberia needed a new plane to 
replace an older one, a grave decision faced the young 
pilot. Flying the wintry North Atlantic was out of the 
question. Would it be possible to fly nonstop from 
Brazil to Africa — a 2,000 mile flight through nothingness? 

Rex and Mr. Greenberg (who also flies and is the 
father of a commercial airline pilot) tested the Cessna 180 
on a southern flight to the Bahamas. Then, a week before 
Christmas, Rex took off from his father's airport at 
Fremont on a pleasant but somewhat cloudy flight down 
the jeweled chain of Caribbean islands. It had been 
more than a year since the first three Phoenix flights — 
for which Rex was commended in a personal letter from 
President Nixon — and he was eager to fly over and 
photograph the beauty south of the Florida Keys. 

His intense interest in geography is reflected in the 
numerous pictures he took over St. Thomas, Puerto Rico, 
St. Lucia, St. Vincent, Trinidad, and South America's 
seemingly endless jungles and coiling rivers. These pic- 
tures make up a slide show he now presents before vari- 
ous groups, mostly United Methodist, "which is one of 
the reasons I'm beginning to feel like a Methodist 
myself," Rex adds. 

He saw jumbled mountains on unknown islands, 
volcanic peaks rearing out of impossibly blue water, long 
stretches of white sand beaches, little clearings — and 
sometimes an airstrip — cut out of impenetrable jungle. 

"I was fascinated by the farms I saw on the way to 



Brazil," Rex said. "Most of them were laid out so beauti- 
fully I couldn't help thinking how super they would be 
for crop dusting. Sometimes I envied the little sailing 
ships lazing around off the islands. In many ways the 
people aboard were freer than I a mile above them." 

Somewhere south of St. Vincent Island he swung the 
plane around to get pictures of the wreck of a luxury 
ocean liner which he describes "as sticking up like a big 
tombstone on a reef." The center of the ship was burned 
out, but there were three swimming pools on the decks 
to remind him of the ship's past glory. 

He found the broad, mighty maw of the Amazon River 
an almost terrifying sight as it poured its yellow flood 
into the Atlantic, staining blue water far out to sea. 

Bad weather kept him grounded in Brazil, delaying for 
three days the long flight that was to take him into the 
heart of an equatorial thunderstorm. 

Caught in the boiling caldron of the storm, engine 
dead above an angry sea, Rex said a quick prayer as he 
switched to an alternate carburetor air intake to utilize 
drier air inside the plane. Had that emergency procedure 
failed, nothing else could have been done to avert 
disaster. 

The Cessna's engine started again! 

On one of the Phoenix flights south along the African 
coast, he had gone through another severe thunderstorm 
over the Gulf of Guinea. At that time a ghostly, flicker- 
ing, bluish light known as Saint Elmo's fire danced over 
the plane — a phenomenon often preceding a stroke of 
lightning. But Saint Elmo's grim glow did not visit him 
during the South Atlantic flight, though the plane was in 
the storm for almost three hours. 

Before the violence and turbulence ceased, the sun was 
well up in a hazy sky. The automatic direction finder 
indicated that Africa lay somewhere ahead, just how far 
the young pilot had no way of knowing. 

"From then on it seemed like an eternity," Rex said. 
"I don't mind telling you I said more than one little 
prayer along the way. When you are alone like that, com- 
pletely out of touch with everyone else in the world 
and wondering if your gas will hold out, you need some- 
one to talk to . . . and God is always handy." 

He had estimated the flight would take 16 hours. 
When that time passed there was nothing around him 
but the haze and the glow of the sun, which by then had 
mounted overhead and was sinking in the west. 

To lose the sun again, even in the haze, was like losing 
a close friend. "Sunrises and sunsets have always fas- 
cinated me," he said. "I've seen some unbelievable 
sunrises after a night flight, for example. They're worth 
almost anything you have to go through. There you are 
high in the sky with those wonderful golden rays making 
fairylands in the clouds, and you say to yourself, Hey, 
you are the only one in the world who is looking at all 
this beauty. There won't be anything like it again. 

"Anyway, it was a great feeling to have that old sun 




^b 



I September 1973 TOCt I III K 



tap me on the shoulder as if to say, 'Man, you made it. 
You are still alive!' " 

Hours later he saw a freighter far below, a reassuring 
reminder that north-south shipping lanes in African 
waters are fairly close to shore. 

When land finally rose from the sea, his computations 
told him he was more than a hundred miles off course, 
somewhere north, in the direction of Dakar. Swinging 
right, he flew down along the coast of Guinea. Nearing 
Liberia, the first voice he heard was that of an Englishman 
he knew who manned the control tower at Monrovia's 
Roberts Field. 

"You can imagine how sweet that English accent 
sounded," he said. 

At dusk on Christmas day, 18 hours and 45 minutes 
after leaving Brazil, Rex put the plane down at destina- 
tion. Bone tired, without sleep for two days, he fell into a 
hotel bed with a little prayer of thanksgiving. "If those 
head winds had been ten miles an hour faster, I probably 
wouldn't be talking to you today," he said matter-of- 
factly. 

The plane Rex likes to think of as Phoenix IV has been 
named the Circuit Rider and is being flown in Liberia on 
missions of mercy by Robert C. Bennett, United Method- 
ism's flying missionary from Elsinore, Calif. The World 
Division paid $35,000 for this Cessna, which is specially 
outfitted for its rugged assignments. Mr. Greenberg said 



the division realized $10,000 from the sale of an older 
plane and has prefunded a $25,000 Advance Special (spe- 
cial missionary gift) against hoped-for gifts from United 
Methodists and others. 

Two Illinois United Methodist conferences — Southern 
and Central — gave funds toward the purchase of Phoenix 
II and Phoenix III. Mr. Greenberg said the World Division 
is hoping other conferences will see fit to underwrite the 
Circuit Rider and other planes needed in mission work. 
Giving for the planes is through United Methodist Ad- 
vance Specials. 

Rex Damschroder returned home to his bride of less 
than four months, to his father's inauguration as a state 
representative, and to his classes at Bowling Green State 
University. This time he flew aboard a giant commercial 
jet, dozing in safety and comfort high above weather 
disturbances of any kind. 

With him he carried a Christmas present from the Rev. 
and Mrs. B. B. Cofield of Monrovia — the tiny, lifelike 
figure of an antelope, beautifully carved in wood at a 
Liberian leprosy colony. This memento has a permanent 
place atop his bookcase. 

The little antelope is something he says he will treasure 
as long as he lives. Almost as much, he could add, as he 
treasures another Christmas present — the sight of the 
African coast after a memorable 2,000-mile flight through 
nothingness. D 



"It was a great feeling to have the old sun tap me on the shoulder as if to say, 'You are still alive! 



>\> 



- 






STY*** 



^uewY® * 




Cartoonist Craham Hunter specializes in scenes of mass activity. His view of a Sunday-school picnic, 
which first appeared in Together in August, 7957, suggests (he kind of church Marjorie Todd Craham remembers 
so well in the accompanying article. The picture prompted one of our editors to remark: "The man's a genius! 
I've looked at it every week for 15 years — and I never fail to see something I missed before." 



18 August-September 1973 HK, Mill K 



I Remember Our Country Church 



By Marjorie Todd Graham 



IN SPITE OF the years that have 
passed, I have only to think of 
our little country church to be 
there again. Our country church — 
the church we almost did not join. 

We were city people who had 
moved frequently from state to state, 
and we were accustomed to city 
churches with elaborate facilities, 
staffed by trained leaders. When we 
moved again, we looked as usual at 
houses in town but found nothing 
that suited us. The house we finally 
bought was out in a little village 
with one store, one church, one ser- 
vice station. 

Before the first Sunday, a delega- 
tion of local young people arrived to 
welcome our children and introduce 
themselves. The minister called, and 
later our daughters went on a hay- 
ride, coming home full of enthusiasm 
— it had been a wonderful evening, 
and everybody was lots of fun. 

Our son was soon exploring the 
countryside with a whole set of new 
friends who came wheeling in on 
their bikes to get acquainted. He too 
was caught up by the attractions of 
country living. "Guess what! There's 
going to be a strawberry social down 
at the church and they need all the 
boys they can get to crank the ice 
cream freezers — and then we get to 
eat all we want!" 

We were getting involved, and it 
seemed only fair that before we 
joined the other church we had 
visited in town we should attend 
Sunday services in the little church 
down the road. 

The morning was bright and hot 
when we found ourselves part of a 
stream of people converging on the 
church. Scores of children, freshly 
released from Sunday school, raced 
on the lawn; young people in their 
Sunday best stood talking and laugh- 
ing on the steps, waiting for the 
church bell to ring out over the vil- 
lage, summoning them inside. Smil- 
ing faces, sunburned and shining, 
surrounded us; hearty greetings were 
extended. We were given bulletins 
and escorted to a pew while our 



children waved to their friends and 
the parents smiled a welcome. 

I settled back and let first im- 
pressions sink into my mind. 

Somehow, I thought, this church 
is different. It is "country." Small and 
immaculate. Plain furnishings. (In our 
last church we had been raising funds 
for a larger, more elaborate brass 
cross.) . . . Never seen so many 
flowers in a church. . . . No formal 
arrangements — just bountiful masses 
of roses, peonies, iris, apparently 
clipped fresh from home gardens 
this morning. . . . Not all of the 
women are wearing hats. None of the 
girls. (In our last church we had been 
disturbed about this trend.) 

Sermon time. / must try to ignore 
the Midwest accent and concentrate 
on the message. Impossible to ignore 
the baby in front of me though. No 
nursery here? Propped on his daddy's 
shoulder, his head wobbly, he gazes 
soberly at the congregation, his stare 
unfocused. He enjoys the up-and- 
down part of the service but is grow- 
ing bored and fussy now. He is 
passed to grandma's eager arms, 
which diverts him only temporarily. 
His blonde young mother produces a 
bottle, and he cuddles down with it 
and soon falls asleep. 

It's hot; I lean forward slightly to 
see if my back is sticking to the pew. 
Bulletins are fluttering, fanning small 
breezes against flushed cheeks, stir- 
ring wisps of hair. 

Another baby cries. He is bounced 
and petted and clucked to, and then 
everybody watches fondly as his 
mother carries him out. She slips in 
again later, the baby soundly sleep- 
ing in her arms. 

The smell of coffee — where can 
that be coming from? 

The benediction. The earnest 
young minister, sunburned, perspir- 
ing, arms extended over his flock in 
parting blessing. 

Shaking hands at the door, I learn 
about the coffee. This is the monthly 
family Sunday when everyone brings 
a dish and stays for dinner. All very 
casual. The tables are ready without 



any apparent fuss. Midway through 
the service someone plugs in the 
coffee urn. Generous supplies of 
food are brought and shared by peo- 
ple who would rather be here than 
any other place they can think of. 

The following week the phone 
rang — an invitation to the women's 
society meeting. Someone would 
pick me up. How could I say that I 
did not want to commit myself to 
anything yet? 

A few nights later I found myself 
in the church again, listening to plans 
for our congregation to participate 
in a fair of some sort in a neighbor- 
ing town. We were to be in charge 
of the food — for the whole week! It 
was matter-of-factly decided that in 
addition to other contributions a 
minimum of six pies would be ex- 
pected from each member! 

I sat silent as they went on from 
there to plan ways of acquiring 
stoves, refrigerators, freezers, and 
tubs for the week. To move these ap- 
pliances, the women confidently vol- 
unteered their husbands' services. 

Embarrassed to admit that I had 
never made more than two pies at 
once in my life, I let my name go 
down for my share. I also worked my 
share of hours serving the food at 
the fair and had fun doing it. 

We joined the little country 
church. We grew to know its people 
who worked so hard every day of 
the week and yet always managed to 
give of themselves and their time. 

We learned that when the church 
needed a fresh coat of white, the 
men gathered for a painting bee on 
a Saturday while the women pre- 
pared a hearty noon meal, making a 
picnic out of a big job. 

We learned that the young pastor 
worked on church repairs along with 
everybody else, played ball with the 
boys and horseshoes with the men, 
called on the sick, directed the young 
people and took them on their out- 
ings, and somehow found time to 
attend his classes and prepare a ser- 
mon. Formerly a farm boy, he was 
also available when needed to help 



August-September 1973 TOGETHER 19 



mend fences or get in the hay. 

We learned that the church was 
the center of things. Here the people 
worshiped, worked, and mmgled so- 
cially. Here young people discovered 
each other, became engaged, were 
given showers, were married, and 
had their receptions. Here babies 
were christened. And here everyone 
joined older couples in celebrating 
special anniversaries. 

I learned that while I was playing 
golf or bridge, these women were 
tending gardens and chickens, sell- 
ing eggs, canning, pickling, and 
freezing. I learned that when the 
church basement and kitchen began 
to look a little drab, thev got to- 
gether and painted them. They 
housecleaned the sanctuary on lad- 
ders and on their knees. They made 
the junior-choir robes. 

Study classes were always full 
with no particular concern about at- 
tendance quotas. Busy as their days 
were, these women made time for 
study and discussion — on the sub- 
ject of prayer, for instance. And 



then when there was illness or ac- 
cident, the word went around, and 
with a deep and abiding faith they 
prayed for the sick or injured one. 
More than that, they took food to 
the family and carried away the 
laundry to be washed and ironed. 

I had found my "church home." 
I came to realize why it had grown 
to mean so much to me; it was full 
to overflowing with love. These peo- 
ple loved their God, they loved one 
another, and they had plenty left 
over for a newcomer. Stained glass, 
a brass cross, hats? Unimportant. 
Love was here — an abundance of it — 
poured out generously. It was a living 
force I felt when I was among them. 
I felt it lingering in the empty sanc- 
tuary on a weekday. 

Too soon, we had to move on; 
and again several times since then. 
We have attended other churches, 
and we have met many other fine 
people. 

But in spite of the years that have 
passed, I often think of our little 
country church, and to think of it 



is to be back there again. I am at the 
worship service with three genera- 
tions together in the pews: ruddy 
grandparents, healthy young couples 
with babies being passed from lap 
to lap, youngsters crayoning in their 
coloring books; summer insects dron- 
ing outside; roses everywhere; and 
the fragrance of coffee filtering up 
from the basement. 

In the kitchen the polka-dot cur- 
tains that I made must long since 
have been replaced, but I'm sure the 
paint is still bright on the walls of the 
basement room where families wait 
for the women to finish cleaning up 
after a chicken dinner — men talking, 
children chasing each other. Or 
I am in the Sunday-school rooms 
where I taught and one daughter 
played the piano, classes squeezed 
into every available corner, down- 
stairs and up. 

I like to think that no matter what 
happens in the rest of the world, that 
country church and those country 
people are still there. □ 



Serenity From the Stars 



IT WAS MY father-in-law who 
started it. A farmer, he was a long- 
time stargazer who loved stars for 
their beauty, majesty, and meaning. 

Offhandedly he suggested one eve- 
ning that I might like to "help myself 
to a star." At the time I thought he 
meant buying a few guidebooks and 
joining him in his hobby. But in his 
calm, quiet way, he must have no- 
ticed how jittery and bothered I was 
on that particular visit to his farm. I 
was a former editor adjusting not 
too easily to a homemaking role with 
three small, active children foiling 
my attempts to keep house within an 
orderly routine. 

I took his suggestion — and wasn't 
long learning that a walk under the 
slars before bedtime helps me to 
unwind physically and quiets busy- 
day nerves. Whether it's warm or 
cold, I return invigorated. 

I've learned that looking up, not 
down, is symbolic and causes my 
spirits lo lift. Whatever worries I have 
when I start out rarely come back; if 
they do, they are in better perspec- 
tive. I <•( ho Ralph Waldo Emerson 
who, walking home al night from a 



troublesome meeting, found peace 
from the stars and chided himself: 
"Why so hot, little man, why so 
hot?" 

Indeed, I say to myself why so 
"hot" with worry — about entertain- 
ing my husband's boss, the kids' 
squabbles, or the way I burned the 
beans? It is harder, however, to re- 
solve my concern about an uncertain 
world and my children's future in 
that world. 

At such times the stars are really 
steadying. I walk and watch and real- 
ize the universe is unchanging, that 
the stars presented precisely the same 
pattern when the early Assyrians 
wrote of the Pole Star on stone tab- 
lets. My Bible (Revised Standard Ver- 
sion) has references in the Book of 
Job to the Bear (Big Dipper), Orion, 
and the Pleiades. When I look at the 
top star, Deneb, in the Northern 
Cross, I know that the light started 
toward my eyes some 1,600 years 
ago. At this point I move out of my 
little box of self-concern and realize 
my dependence on God. 

Though I've learned to locate most 
of the constellations, I leave the deep 



mathematics of astronomy to men in 
observatories. The sheer beauty of 
the stars is enough for me. Again and 
again, I watch joyfully as the scatter- 
ing of small white pinpricks pierce 
the darkness when day gives way to 
night. 

Although my interest in star watch- 
ing is simple and uncluttered, I count 
joys I had not reckoned on. Star 
watching is free; it can be done alone, 
spontaneously. There is always some- 
thing new to see — a different align- 
ment of stars as seasons change, a 
planet, a "falling star," or meteor 
showers that spill out at predictable 
intervals. Star watching need never 
(Mid. Fven the bedfast person, lying 
by a window, can watch the proces- 
sion of the stars across the night sky. 

Do I still get tired and bothered? 
Of course. My problems have not 
changed that much, but the stars 
have helped change my outlook. I 
feel I've never been so aware, so able 
to keep problems in perspective, so 
at one with the world since the night 
I first "helped myself to a star." 

— Mary Margaret Kern 



i i Si ptembei 19 '3 t< >u nil R 




h k/: T 





By BRUCE HILTON 

Editor, Genetic Counseling 



Tc 



O HIS NEW JERSEY neighbors, Carl Salamansky must have 
seemed a very lucky man. A miracle of modern medicine was 
keeping him alive. 

His kidneys had failed, but twice a week he literally plugged his 
body into an artificial kidney; the blood flowed out of him through 
a series of tubes and filters and then flowed back in, cleansed of 
its impurities. Without this process, called hemodialysis and in- 
vented only a dozen years before, he would have been dead. 

But 18 months ago Salamansky placed a classified ad in a 
metropolitan newspaper. He offered $3,000 to any donor who 
would sell him a kidney for transplant. If he didn't get one, he said, 
he would commit suicide by refusing any more treatments. 

As it turned out, Carl Salamansky died anyway from complica- 
tions surrounding the attempted transplant. The kidney came (free) 




Illustration by Tak Murakami, courteaf the new physician 



from a child killed in an accident. But the questions 
raised by his case — and thousands of others like it — still 
trouble many thoughtful people. 

Is it moral to buy or sell a human organ? Which of 
the 50,000 people dying of kidney failure in the United 
States should get the few donor kidneys available? And 
who should decide who gets them? 

Of those who can't get a transplant, which will have 
access to a kidney machine (also far too few)? Should 
ability to pay be a factor? Should the "usefulness" of 
the patient to society, his age, and family be factors? 

Should a patient who finds life "on the machine" un- 
bearable have the right to pull the plug? And if he does, 
should the physician have a right — or even the duty — to 
make his death as painless as possible? 

There are no pat answers — only shadings of balance 
between rights and responsibilities. Most of us have had 
little training in thinking through the philosophical, psy- 
chological, legal, and religious issues involved. Further- 
more, the lifesaving techniques that make these ques- 
tions relevant didn't exist 15 years ago. 

The unwelcome side effect of our great new advances 
in medicine is the basis of a new field, bioethics — the 
social, ethical, and legal implications of recent advances 
in biology and medicine. 

The questions of bioethics touch all who are born, 
have children, or die. They arise from such developments 
as genetic engineering, the use of drugs for behavior 
control, and the physician's ability to extend life. 

Our faith and our church will play a key role in de- 
termining whether we meet such dilemmas with a 
thoughtful and rational ethical approach or are caught 
by surprise, reacting in panic and instinct to develop- 
ments that seem beyond understanding. As part of that 
preparation, let's look at how new technology, laws, and 
societal attitudes have spawned these new ethical issues. 

Changing Technology 

Medicine has changed more in the last 30 years than 
in the previous two centuries. In doing so, it has moved 
beyonu tne social framework set up to deal with the 
old problems. Our headlights have become too dim for 
the speed we're driving. 

Formerly the physician fought death with every 
weapon at his disposal. Now he has weapons strong 
enough to maintain life, or its appearance, beyond the 
point where some think it's wise. 

Pneumonia, "the old man's friend," once provided 
release for the aged, terminally ill patient. Now we can 
cure the pneumonia, presenting the physician with a 
decision he didn't have to make before. To cure the 
pneumonia prolongs the agony; not to do so goes against 
all his instincts and training. What does he do when the 
patient asks to be allowed to die? When the patient is 
in a coma and can't speak for himself? When he wants 
to die but the family wants him to struggle on? 

These are not decisions the physician and family can 
evade. Not to decide is to decide. Not to act is to act. 

Such questions are raised even more starkly by the 
heart-lung machine, which can keep the heart pumping 
and the blood circulating artificially long after the brain 
has irreversibly ceased to function. The power to extend 
life brings the terrible burden of deciding whether to 
extend life, and the question of who should make such 



decisions is more difficult to settle than ever. 

Physicians of the old school saw such decisions as 
purely medical and, thus, in their province. But patients 
are more aware of their rights now, as are many modern 
physicians; recognition is growing not only that the 
patient should have the final word in nonmedical de- 
cisions, but that there are more such decisions than we 
had realized. The decision to "pull the plug" is an ethical 
decision, whether we recognize it as such at the time, 
whether we think it through or merely act out of instinct 
and habit. 

Another technological advance scares up all sorts of 
ethical rabbits. It is called amniocentesis — the prenatal 
diagnosis of genetic defects. 

Within the last three years physicians have learned to 
withdraw a small amount of amniotic fluid from the 
womb of a pregnant mother and, by examining the fetal 
cells floating in it, diagnose such genetic defects as 
mongolism and Tay-Sachs disease. (The latter is a rare, 
fatal disease occurring chiefly in infants among people 
of eastern European origin.) 

This can be done in the fourth month of pregnancy 
and can reassure a couple, both of whom are carriers of 
a specific inherited disease, that their baby won't have 
the defect. 

But in those cases where the child is affected, parents 
face an ethical decision because a safe and legal 
abortion is possible. But even if the couple, the physician, 
and the hospital all agree that abortion is morally ac- 
ceptable to prevent the birth of a seriously affected child, 
how do they decide what genetic defects merit such a 
measure? For mongolism, the answer may be easy, but 
what about Huntington's chorea, which offers 35 to 50 
years of healthy life before a terrible physical and mental 
deterioration begins? What about diabetes, or near- 
sightedness? 

Such questions eventually force us to face more basic 
ones: What is normal? What is defective? What is man? 

Changing Laws 

The shift in society's attitudes is reflected in its laws, 
and such shifts can also raise bioethical dilemmas. When 
abortion for all but the most stringent reasons was illegal, 
the physician who believed women had a moral right 
to make their own decisions about terminating a preg- 
nancy faced a serious dilemma. 

Now that the Supreme Court has ruled, and abortion 
is legal in several states, it is the antiabortion physician 
who faces the dilemma. 

Laws which make screening for genetic disease manda- 
tory also create ethical ambiguities for modern citizens. 
It is only in the past four years that it has been possible 
to learn from a drop of blood whether a person is a 
carrier of such diseases as sickle-cell anemia — which is 
"contagious" only in the sense that there is a 25 percent 
chance of passing it on to one's children. 

The fact is that those who have sickle-cell anemia 
already know it by the time they would be tested (in 
Massachusetts, the test is given in first grade; in some 
other states, it's necessary for granting of a marriage 
license). What mandatory testing does is identify carriers 
— people who are not sick, but who might pass the 
disease on to their children if they marry another carrier. 

Experience is showing that such carriers are subject 



M September l')7) !()(,! III! K 



to stress and tension by finding out about their relatively 
harmless condition after it's too late to do anything 
about it. They are not going to change their minds at 
the license-bureau window. Information which might 
have been welcome and helpful at, say, the high-school 
level and on a voluntary basis, is instead a source of 
tension in a marriage before it gets started. 

Several states are now in the process of repealing or 
modifying their laws to make the testing voluntary. But 
meanwhile, citizens are caught in a dilemma created by 
new technology and new laws. 

Death is another issue the states are trying to resolve 
by legislation. Most states don't have a legal definition of 
death; those which do usually use the cessation of heart 
and circulation as the basis. But when these can be main- 
tained artificially — and indefinitely — the questions begin. 

What if the family asks that the respirator be kept 
going for one extra day so that Uncle Joe can arrive from 
California before Father "dies"? What if there is a trust 
fund due and if the patient "lives" beyond the end of 
the month, the money goes to a different relative? 

An eminent committee of physicians at Harvard Uni- 
versity has worked out a new set of criteria for determin- 
ing when a patient has died; it hinges on irreversible 
brain death. Kansas has passed a law defining death in 
such terms, and similar legislation has been proposed in 
other states. 

But the basic questions are not medical but ethical: 
What is life? What is death? What is present in a human 
being that is not present in a corpse? 

Unless there is broad and careful public discussion of 
such questions, we may find ourselves with bad laws 
and unethical application of the new life-extending tech- 
nologies. And we will find ourselves unable to deal with 
the dilemmas when a loved one is involved. 

Still another law, recently enacted, highlights the 
ethical issues surrounding hemodialysis (treatment on the 
kidney machine) by providing such care at federal ex- 
pense for all who need it. The legislation, which Con- 
gress passed without much discussion, commits the fed- 
eral government to spending perhaps a billion dollars 
a year, and it opens the way for discussion of why all 
catastrophic illnesses aren't funded this way. 

Or to put it another way: Why should only those who 
can afford it have the gift of life when stricken by treat- 
able diseases? (A group of people suffering from 
hemophilia — uncontrollable bleeding from the slightest 
injury — are suing the U.S. government for full treatment, 
which costs as much as $20,000 a year. Uncle Sam 
provides care for drug addicts, they say.) 

Meanwhile, people in many communities are collecting 
money door to door or dropping dimes into cans at the 
grocery check-out counter to help some local victim who 
has been bankrupted by catastrophic illness. 

The way we care for one another is an ethical as well 
as an economic question. The ability to treat many more 
diseases than we used to just makes it more difficult to 
justify leaving some people out of the health-care system. 

Changes in Society 

Medicine, by its very success, is making problems for 
society. The population explosion is a clear example. 

The rapid growth in the earth's population is not a 
result of faster breeding; the rate hasn't changed much. 



The cause is medicine's ability to preserve and extend 
life. People die later, so they're around longer. 

Would we have had it otherwise? And if so, whose 
grandfather would have to die? 

Cutting off the medicine is out of the question, even 
if we could agree on whose to cut off; it's too much like 
Malthus's proposal that war be used to keep the popula- 
tion down. But offering cash or food incentives to get 
people to stop procreating is also an ethically question- 
able answer; it puts an extra burden on the poor, whose 
ability to decide is more limited because their need for 
the cash or food is greater. 

Allowing a specific number of children to be born to 
each family threatens minority groups who point out that 
their high infant-mortality rate means that they will end 
up with dwindling numbers — and influence. Any other 
proposal, from a negative income tax to putting a con- 
traceptive agent in the water supply, seems to violate 
some commonly accepted right or to discriminate against 
one group or another. 

The important thing is to see that decisions are made 
thoughtfully, through the proper public-policy machinery, 
by the widest possible informed public. The intricacy of 
such decisions, and the background knowledge required 
to discuss them, usually result in a small, professional 
elite making the final choice. The tenets of democracy 
and the Christian concern for every individual require 
that we fight to avoid such a procedure. 

Medicine's successes may also have a negative effect 
on the quality of future children. By keeping the heredi- 
tarily ill alive beyond the reproductive age, we increase 
the incidence of lethal genes in the human population. 
In recent years we have seen sizable increases in the 
numbers of victims of such diseases as diabetes. 

Some scientists warn that we will become a race of 
weaklings, each bearing the weight of six or eight serious 
genetic diseases. They propose that people with certain 
diseases be "weeded out," or at least be forbidden to 
bear children. They would require prenatal screening for 
all pregnancies and mandatory abortion for defective 
fetuses. 

But prenatal screening wouldn't catch all the defects; 
it has been suggested that babies born defective should 
also be killed. Dr. James Watson, Nobel Prize winner 
for discovering the shape of DNA, recently proposed 
that the legal birth date be postponed three days after 
actual birth so that such infanticide could be practiced. 

The ethical problems here are obvious. In the first 
place, a clear danger to human rights and human life is 
being proposed to solve a very vague and possible future 
danger. We do not know enough about genetics to be 
sure of the outcome of such a policy. And the difference 
between aborting a fetus and killing a day-old child, 
while clear to some, is still arguable for others. 

One thing is clear: Changes already are being publicly 
proposed, and the first steps toward public policy are 
being taken. The wrong policy, arrived at in haste by an 
elitist group, could affect our freedom, our family struc- 
ture, and the very way we look at mankind. 

In this issue, like the others discussed here, Christians 
should be studying and discussing — in church and out — 
the application of Christian principles. Faced suddenly 
with the power to "play God," we must be responsible 
stewards of its use. □ 



August-September 1973 TOGETHER 23 



Dos Mundos Schools: 



Bridging Language 
and Culture 



Text by Helen Johnson / Pictures by Jim Matson 



YOU ARE A CHILD again, sitting in an elementary 
schoolroom. The teacher is speaking and you strain 
to listen. But her words race on in an incompre- 
hensible babble. You can't understand what she's saying 
because your family speaks Spanish and she speaks 
English. 

Or imagine that you do understand English, but you 
come out of a black culture that is very different from 
the white Anglo culture reflected in your classroom. You 
hear and understand, but it all fails to take on any real 
meaning for you. 

The first language spoken by 5 million American 
school-age children was something other than English. 
For 4 million of them it was Spanish. The United States 
Office of Education says that 89 percent of our Mexican- 
American students will never finish high school. And 
more black students than white drop out of high school 
before graduation. 

Bilingual education programs to help children leap 
over the language barrier are springing up all over the 
country. Some 112,000 children are enrolled in them 
now, and the potential enrollment for still more pro- 
grams is in the millions. Supporters see the bilingual 
approach as giving children a chance for success in 
school and a better life when they get out. Its critics 
say it's merely bureaucratic waste, providing jobs for 
teachers who speak ethnic languages but actually per- 
petuating ethnic barriers instead of breaking them down. 

In Corpus Christi, Texas, where there is a large Span- 
ish-speaking population, United Methodists have joined 
with Roman Catholics, Episcopalians, Presbyterians, and 
members of the Christian Church on the side of bilingual 
education. Ihrough the Coastal Bend Christian Service 
Association, incorporated by these churches in 1968, 
they are responsible for Dos Mundos Schools. These 
schools — their Spanish name means "two worlds" — are 
providing bilingual preschool education and a firm 
early-grade foundation to children from three years old 
to nine. They also offer remedial tutoring for children 



who are having trouble in public school. And, as the 
only alternative education program in South Texas, they 
operate as a pilot-model for public and parochial systems 
that are too overburdened to do innovative experimenta- 
tion themselves. 

Dos Mundos staff members, headed by James Larick, 
who has years of experience in bilingual early-childhood 
education, have solid training in methods and techniques 
involved in the most advanced, soundly based teaching 
and learning concepts. They share their experience 
through teacher-training and consultant services. 

Dos Mundos preschool classes are held in two of 
Corpus Christi's United Methodist churches — Oak Park 
and Wesley. A brown building behind the Woodlawn 
Presbyterian Church houses the Dos Mundos office and 
primary classes. 

The schools' 125 pupils come from Mexican-American, 
black, and Anglo homes. This tri-cultural, bilingual mix 
offers them constant opportunities to enjoy the particu- 
lars of the cultures represented along with chances to 
appreciate life-styles that aren't their own. This has 
brought advantaged children as well as disadvantaged 
ones to the schools. 

There is great stress on communication. Children are 
allowed to master their own and a second language at 
their own speed. The goal is io make them capable in 
both languages, but they are never pressured. The edu- 
cational experience at Dos Mundos is tailored to fit each 
child. Never is a child required to fit the system. Each 
pupil is worked with individually at the pupil's own 
level. 

In the classrooms, space and traffic patterns invite 
pupils into cooperative activities and the communica- 
tion that these entail. Activities are designed so the 
child will have something to talk about. Processes are 
designed to say to the child: You are capable of learning 
on your own. 

Instead of being at the center of the stage and re- 
garded as the fount of all knowledge, teachers act as 



24 



I iepti mbi . I973 r< )GI mi R 




Fair, brown, and black-skinned children (above) at Dos Mundos come from homes representing 
widely varied interests and incomes. The help which pupils receive (below) may prevent their having 
to repeat a grade which is expensive to a school system and damaging to a child's ego. 



A 



/> 





Parents make outings and field trips possible for Dos Mundos pupils, and with their 

cooperation everybody has fun. Dos Mundos makes every effort to let parents of its pupils feel their 

partnership in determining their children's education progress. 



diagnosticians, guides, and prescribers. At Dos Mundos 
a child can't simply sit still and soak up learning like 
a sponge as it is delivered. Pupils have to work at 
learning, and because they do, it sticks with them. 

Storytelling helps develop short-term and long-term 
memory skills, and those skills in turn lead to the kind 
of audio discrimination you have to have if you're going 
to hear the differences in the sound systems of two 
languages. 

A science study group may move outside to see an 
insect or an animal in its natural setting. Field trips take 
the pupils to museums and libraries, and in one case 
there was a trip to a family-owned business operated by 
one child's parents. 

Tree climbing becomes an educational tool and a com- 
munity effort. Games develop motor skills. There is time 
and opportunity for creative expression. 

Throughout the school year, different cultural heri- 
tages represented by the pupils are studied, and in this 
way the children learn that people have the same basic 
needs and concerns — that man is equally human whether 
he uses a wooden plow or a steel one; that one culture 
may be different from another, but it is not inferior. 



As the children get involved in the learning process, 
they discover many of the principles that lead to problem 
solving; and as they learn together, they're getting train- 
ing in how to work positively with others throughout 
their lives. 

The teachers at Dos Mundos are completely aware that 
the nature and quality of early childhood experiences 
in the home make the difference in a child's success in 
school. 

Parents who have a sense of what challenges and 
shapes youngsters' curiosity can help motivate their chil- 
dren to learn. If they encourage and reinforce initiative 
with parental praise, their children will develop positive 
concepts of themselves. If they extend and expand on 
what their youngsters say, the children's language and 
concepts are enriched. If they show that they value 
books, their children will be encouraged to enter the 
world of reading. 

But lots of children don't have this kind of home 
environment and family relationship. Parents of large 
families can't have as much time to give individual 
attention and help to each child. When parents confine 
conversations with their children to issuing orders, the 



26 



August-September 1973 foci IMF K 




Learning to listen helps promote reflectivity, and it's a great way to increase attention span. 

Stories strengthen these skills, and the children like being read to so much that some of them will even take 

time from their outdoor play periods to listen to somebody read a story. 



relationship between them is narrowed, and so are the 
children's horizons. And in some Mexican-American 
homes the Spanish that is spoken is so simplistic that it's 
almost impossible to frame high-order intellectual con- 
cepts in it. 

If such educational deficits aren't made up for before 
a child enters school, it's difficult and expensive to 
remedy them later. It costs approximately twice as much, 
for instance, to maintain a child in a remedial classroom, 
and even more important is the frustration and failure 
the child feels as a result of being in such special 
classes. Out of school, an unskilled or low-skilled job 
seeker is finding it increasingly hard to find new oppor- 
tunities, and it's going to get steadily harder to do this 
in the future as technological developments swallow 
up more and more lower-level jobs. 

Dos Mundos is helping make up for what the families 
of some of its children haven't been able to supply. Its 
real strength, though, lies in the day-to-day loving rela- 
tionship evident in the acts of the school administration 
and in the attitudes of the teaching staff as they shape 
growth by promoting the attainment of basic skills, 
respect the individual potential of the young, guide the 



early efforts of the uncertain learner, share the joys of 
discovery, provide understanding when anxieties arise, 
listen when things go wrong, and comfort when there is 
distress. 

It's this kind of love that the churches had in mind 
when United Methodism's Corpus Christi District Board 
of Missions and the other three church groups set up the 
corporation that makes Dos Mundos possible. Their 
contributions cover about 53 percent of the schools' 
annual budget. Since tuition is modest and based on 
parents' ability to pay, it represents only another 10 per- 
cent of the schools' needs. For the rest of its funding, Dos 
Mundos must rely on contributions from foundations and 
individuals. 

So far, the schools have been able to keep on with 
their work of celebrating diversity and building bridges 
of love and understanding between children of two 
languages and three cultures. □ 



August-September 1973 TOGETHER 27 



getting 
Out of the 




^fes-JYctp 



By Robin Worthington 



An Interchurch Feature originated by AD. (United 
Church of Christ and The United Presbyterian Church in 
the U.S.A.). Copyright 1972 by the A.D. Publishing Com- 
i ised by permission. 



RUTH ANDERSON sat in her kitchen chewing on a 
red pencil and scowling at her appointment calen- 
dar. Like a flurry of impulsive credit-card purchases 
coming home to roost, all the times Ruth had said yes 
these last weeks were now clamoring for payment. This 
week: Introduce ecology speaker at church meeting; beg 
from door to door for heart fund; shepherd a gaggle of 
Girl Scouts through the natural-science museum; bake 
two dozen cakes for hungry Cubs; call 20 unknowns to 
remind them of Candidates' Night next Wednesday. 

"Baseball car pool this afternoon. Those squirmy 
little boys. Do you think I dare feed the family TV 
dinners again tonight?" She spoke aloud to her only 
listeners — two goldfish gliding past each other in the 
bubbling aquarium. The fish tank reverberated as the 
front door slammed to announce the arrival of nine-year- 
old Tim. "Mom, we still don't have a room mother for 
our class, and Miss Emerson says we can't take any field 
trips unless we have one. You'll be it, won't you?" 

"Let me think about it, Tim. Okay?" Ruth sighed. 

Most women know the feeling behind that sigh. We 
want to serve, soothe, smooth, give our time and our- 
selves. Yet when we say yes to everyone, we feel rushed, 
emotionally splintered, gloomily certain that our families 
and friends are suffering from holes in their heels and 
neglect pains. On the other hand, when we refuse the 
groups that ask our time, whether church affiliated or 
otherwise, we feel guilty. Somehow "they" make us 
feel we're not doing our share. 

The problem gets graver when our growing children's 
hyperactivities send us spinning into the orbit of youth 
groups, Sunday school, Scouts, 4-H, and sports. With 
five children to lure me into involvement, I got so I put 
my hands over my ears when the phone rang. Overcom- 
mitted and overcommitteed, I'd become what sociologist 
Andrew Greeley calls "a free-floating mass of obliga- 
tions." 

Surely there was a way out of this tangle. I looked 
around me at active Christian women who seemed to 
glide through their days with a serenity I could only 
envy. What were their secrets? 

One of them, Elaine, is a mother of three who finds 
time to tutor Spanish-speaking adults in our local English 
literacy program. She explained to me, "A woman must 
work out her own personal priorities, regardless of what 
other women are doing. 

"I used to be like the White Rabbit in Alice in Wonder- 
land. Hurry, hurry, hurry. Racing from one meeting to 
the next. Always one eye on the clock. Den mother, room 
mother, League of Women Voters study chairman. It 
someone even looked at me, I said yes." 

Elaine continued her tale. One day at the supermarket 
she was startled by a touch on her arm. It was her 
friend Clare. Her face was gray, and dark circles ringed 
her eyes. "How've you been, Clare?" Elaine asked, 
wondering how her friend could have turned into this 
sorrowful specimen. 

"I guess you haven't heard," Clare said. "Jim and I 
have separated." 

"I'm so sorry. I didn't know." 

"Remember that day I stopped by last month?" Clare 
asked. "I kind of wanted to talk to you about it then. 
But you were on your way to a meeting, and I didn't 



28 August i pti mbi i 19 I fO< I THER 



want to hold you up. Oh, well, it doesn't matter now." 

Elaine told me that her stomach still turns over when 
she recalls that moment. "I had to ask myself, What 
good are all those meetings if I don't have time to listen 
to people? What does Christ want of me — committees 
or compassion? 

"I took stock after that and cut down my activities 
to the few that have really personal meaning, like my 
tutoring. I trained myself to say no, firmly and politely, 
without feeling guilty. Oh, I had a few twinges at first, 
but they passed after a little practice. I don't go rushing 
past people's problems anymore, and I'm at peace." 

Peace. That lovely word. Kay, a volunteer high-school 
career counselor, mentioned it, too. "I'd actually worked 
myself up to three meetings a day," she said, "before 
I realized that if you're going to experience Christ's 
peace — peace that passes understanding — sometimes you 
have to give up a few activities to make room for it." 

I talked to many women who had successfully climbed 
out of the yes-trap. They all emphasized that saying no 
is a positive action. "That's how your yeses have mean- 
ing," as one of them said. 

How can you achieve total commitment but selective 
volunteering? Here are some suggestions: 

Use your special gifts wisely and overlook others' ex- 
pectations. Too often we make the false assumption that, 
as Christians, we "ought" to do everything we're asked 
to do. 

Perhaps we should look again at Paul's advice to the 
Corinthians. "There is a variety of gifts but always the 
same Spirit; there are all sorts of service to be done, but 
always to the same Lord; working in all sorts of different 
ways in different people, it is the same God who is 
working in all of them." (I Corinthians 12:4-6, The 
Jerusalem Bible.) 

Fran's family, for instance, kids her about being a 
clubwoman. "Sure, they tease me about my white 
gloves," she agrees. "But they also admit the reason we 
have a beautiful, green central park in this city is that our 
members proposed the idea and rang doorbells to get 
the bond issue passed. It takes group action to do some- 
thing like that." 

On the other hand, Liz is an independent spirit who 
shudders at groups of more than three people. "If it's 
got a chairman and minutes, count me out." She usually 
wears a sweat shirt, plaid slacks, and a smile that sug- 
gests something good is about to happen. Liz doesn't 
talk about it much, but she regularly drives cancer pa- 
tients to a treatment center in a nearby city. She's also 
on call to pick up groceries and prescriptions for her 
housebound neighbors. 

"We didn't have a car when I was a child," she ex- 
plains. "I'm just passing on what other people did for 
us. In fact, we've given the Lord our car. Not much of a 
gift," she laughs. "It's ten years old. But it gets his work 
done." 

Never feel guilty about refusing elsewhere if you're 
contributing somewhere. If you take on a job because 
you'll "feel guilty if you don't," most likely you'll feel 
resentful if you do. 

"It took me a while to realize I wasn't necessarily a 
better person because I said yes all the time," a young 
mother told me. "Actually, what I was doing was passing 



the buck, letting other people decide what my life was 
about. I didn't have the backbone to make my own 
decisions." 

"Time is the coin of your life," said Carl Sandburg. 
"It is the only coin you have, and only you can deter- 
mine how it will be spent. Be careful lest you let other 
people spend it for you." 

If others are doing "more" than you are, let them. 
Like yourself for what you do. Don't dislike yourself for 
what others do. 

Pray your way into your commitments. Then you'll 
have fewer you want to back out of. Not every good 
cause has your name on it. Not every request is a re- 
quest from God. 

At a meeting called to set up a community food bank, 
my friend Jennifer had to leave early to pick up her 
kindergartner. As she buttoned her coat, she said, "Sure, 
sign me up to help. What's more basic than food?" 

She headed out the door, then suddenly reappeared. 
"Hey, I forgot to ask the Lord if he wants me to take 
this on. I'll call you back." Evidently, he did, because 
she did. I'd always been impressed with Jennifer's total 
presence in any job she took on. Now I know how 
she achieves it. She knows where she's supposed to be, 
so she's totally there. 

Accept the hard fact that your choices will not always 
be understood by others. "I dropped out of one women's 
group because all we did was put on a spring fashion 
show and a fall fashion show," a friend told me. "I 
decided to put my home-ec training to use, so I volun- 
teered to help with a consumer-education course for 
women from low-income families. Home canning, setting 
up shopping car pools, where to buy day-old bread, how 
to complain if you're cheated — all that and a lot more. 
It's been the most satisfying work I've ever done. Yet 
every time I see someone from the old group, I feel I 
ought to go up and explain myself." 

Whatever we do (or don't do), we're bound to be mis- 
understood by someone. 

Don't hesitate or you'll become chairman. When in 
doubt over accepting a job, remember that the illusion 
there'll be more time tomorrow is just that — an illusion. 

It's easier than you may think to say no. A warm-up 
preamble softens the blow. "Thank you for thinking of 
me," does nicely, I've found. Then you need only say, 
"I'm sorry, but I'm deeply involved in the Sunday-school 
program (or whatever your top priority work is), and 
that's the only major commitment I can make if I want 
to do it well." (Incidentally, a new baby is definitely a 
major commitment.) 

As for the smaller one-shot requests, you know your 
limits best. Is it one of those "it really isn't much work" 
enticements from a friend, where you will end up staging 
a gigantic open house in the school multipurpose room? 
Or is it simply a matter of working a couple of hours 
in the church kitchen for the teen-agers' spaghetti feed? 
Sniff out what's really involved and answer accordingly. 
Yea or nay, the choice is yours. 

Making choices is one of the ways we become truly 
ourselves, the selves that God intends. As the eminent 
Swiss psychiatrist Theodor Bovet puts it in Have Time and 
Be Free: "It is not so important to do as much good as 
possible as to do what God requires of me." 



August-September 1973 TOGETHER 29 



PEOPLE 




DOUG SMITH: Drug Addict Becomes Delinquents' Advocate 



HE DROPPED OUT of college because he had no 
goals for his life. A series of jobs followed, and 
headaches — headaches so severe that he began 
taking drugs. The drugs were prescribed, but he went 
to several doctors simultaneously so the dosages were 
much higher than any one physician would have pre- 
scribed. His drug usage grew until he was addicted. 
Then he took an overdose, forcing his wife to commit 
him to a state mental hospital. That could have been 
the end of the road for Doug Smith. Instead, his experi- 
ences paved the way to a renewed interest in education 
and a career working with young people in trouble. 

In February, 1972, an experimental program was cre- 
ated to offer probation-officer internships to 20 students 
at McPherson College in Kansas. Doug was the first to 
sign up. Since then he has worked full time two sum- 
mers and part time during the school year, reviewing the 
cases of juvenile offenders, preparing for court hearings, 
and working with parolees and their families. 

"Doug was assigned some of the most difficult cases," 
says Lloyd Zook, director of McPherson County's court 
services. "He has learned to assess a person's need and 
to design a plan of action — a treatment prescription — 
in an excellent manner." 

As an intern (he completed that work last January), 



Doug carried a case load of 40, developed a program for 
people picked up on bad-check charges, and frequently 
spoke to school and civic groups. He also was youth 
coordinator for McPherson's First United Methodist 
Church, an active member of the local drug-abuse coun- 
cil, and weekend dispatcher and jailer at the county 
sheriff's office. He received his bachelor's degree in 
sociology and psychology from McPherson in May, then 
headed for probation work. He is now chief juvenile 
probation officer in Salina, Kans., and "just loves it," his 
wife reports. 

"I don't have headaches anymore for the same reason 
I no longer take drugs," Doug says. "I've found what I'm 
good at and what is satisfying to me — working with 
young people. They're open, not as inhibited as others. 
If you're honest with them, they usually will return that 
honesty." 

Behind Doug through all his troubles has been his 
wife, June. "When Doug was on drugs or in the hospital, 
I used to ask, Why is this happening? Now I firmly be- 
lieve that Cod can take the worst situations and make 
something good from them," she says. Three good 
things already have happened to Doug and June— Liz 
Ann, Cindy, and Missy, their three daughters. G 



30 



August September 1973 TOCETHFR 




CAROLINE ANDERSON: 

Her Donors Day Bears Repeating 



ON A SINGLE DAY last October, 2,987 people from 
22 churches and a college in Downers Grove, III., 
pledged their willingness to donate organs for 
transplants. Marty had never even considered the idea 
previously. Now it seems likely that a community-wide 
Donors Day will become an annual Downers Grove 
event. It also is being considered in other communities. 

Behind this unique day designed to give gifts of life 
and sight is Caroline Anderson, who feels that the idea 
for it all was "God's direction in my life." 

"Being hospitalized many times with a kidney disease, 
it disturbed me to see children, young people, and adults 
being kept alive by an artificial kidney machine," said 
Mrs. Anderson. "Their only hope for life was to have a 
transplant. Doctors lamented the fact that there are never 
enough donors. My minister, the Rev. Farrell D. Jenkins, 
once said in a sermon that if you see a need, you should 
pray and meditate, then act upon it; if all doors are open, 
it is God directing you. This is how I felt about the 
Donors Day idea — I knew it would be successful." 

Mrs. Anderson explained her idea to her pastor, then 
with a friend went to visit Downers Grove's mayor and, 
finally, the local ministerial association. Everyone's re- 
sponse was enthusiastic. For five months the community 
was alerted to the event. "Most people, regardless of 
their concern, could not make the gift-of-life decision 
until their ministers or priests had shown through ser- 
mons or study groups that this was an act of true Chris- 
tian love and social concern," Mrs. Anderson observed. 
She feels that Donors Day would not have succeeded if 
pledge cards had just been handed out door to door. 

Caroline and Bill Anderson, daughter Chris, and young 
son Kurt attend First United Methodist in Downers 
Grove. Caroline serves on the administrative board and 
the evangelism committee. □ 



THE FARR FAMILY: They Sing God's Love 



THINGS WEREN'T always harmonious at the Farr 
household in Middleton, Pa. Nicholas Farr, a former 
jazz musician and onetime bingo operator, almost 
lost his marriage and family in his early search for ma- 
terial success. Instead of wealth, Nick and his family 
found Christ — and he is the message of the concerts 
they present frequently now. 

The family began performing in 1967 and sang their 
first religious concert in 1969 at a United Methodist 
church in Palmyra, Pa. It wasn't until a year later, how- 
ever, that they had a "personal encounter with Christ." 
It happened at a church camp in the Ozarks. They hadn't 
wanted to go there in the first place, and they tried to 
hurry through the program. But the young campers 
kept the Farrs singing for two hours. 

"That day we experienced the love and religion that 
we had been singing about in so many concerts," Nich- 
olas Farr explains. "We also realized that God meant us 
to share our talents with the smaller groups and the 
church-oriented persons . . . Since then we've never re- 
fused to go to a church, regardless of its denomination 
and size." 

The Farrs, active in the Church of the Brethren, have 
sung in nearly every state in the U.S. and in Canada. 
Joyce, the mother, is soprano soloist. Eldest son, Eric, 
sings lead tenor. He also is a composer and arranger 
and accompanies the group on his vibraharp. Kurt plays 
bass and trombone. Daughter Joy plays harp and sings 
alto. Nick II sings and plays the piano, but his specialty 
is drum. Mark and Joel, the youngest, both sing and play 
the piano. Nick plays the piano and relates the music 
to the concert theme — "A Celebration of Love." □ 



Augu-st-September 1973 TOGETHER 31 



you Asked 



I understand that as of January, 1974, Together 
will be replaced by a new magazine. What will the 
new magazine be called and what will it be like? 

The new magazine, replacing the 17 -year-old To- 
gether, will be called United Methodists Today. It 
will have a fresh focus upon people and current 
happenings. Its contents will contain sharp, dra- 
matic display of stories and stimulating coverage 
on the faith of United Methodists in general. Today 
will have 64 pages of 5V2-by-8V2-inch dimensions, 
similar in size to Reader's Digest or TV Guide. The 
charter subscription rate will be $3.96 a year. 

— Your Editors 



How do you know a man's love will last? I am 21; 
he is 22. We've been going together for four 
months and are thinking about marriage. He says 
he loves me and seems sincere. I worry a lot about 
whether he loves me as much as he says. 

/ suppose most young women worry about whether 
love will last. To love means to risk getting hurt. 
You take the risk in faith that the lover is worthy 
of your trust. Of course, love is more than affec- 
tion. It is an act of the committed will. So you 
need to ask not only whether he is affectionate 
toward you, you need to know whether he is a 
person of character. Does he have the maturity, 
stability, and moral fiber to make a big promise 
and keep it for a lifetime? You come to sense this 
as you get to know him and his family in depth, 
listen to the counsel of your own family and 
friends, and pray a lot. — Dale White 



Why are the dates for Easter variable? Wouldn't 
it be better to have a permanent date like Christ- 
mas? To observe Easter on different dates each year 
seems to support the idea of a secular observance. 

Unlike other holy days, Easter is central to the 
whole Christian year, and particularly to Lent, Holy 
Week, and Pentecost. Based upon the spring equi- 
nox, Easter is the first Sunday after the full moon. 
If the full moon occurs on a Sunday, Easter is the 
following Sunday. The day, therefore, may fall be- 
tween March 22 and April 25 inclusive. 

But the observance of Jesus' Resurrection day 
has varied. Romans of the first century celebrated 
the day on the 14th day of the moon without re- 
gard to Sunday. Others observed the day on the 
first Sunday after the Jewish Passover. Debate con- 
cerning the date continued for many years. Western 



Christians now use the same dating system, but a 
different method of calculation in Eastern Ortho- 
dox churches results in Orthodox Easter sometimes 
falling on the same date and sometimes one, four, 
or five weeks later. — Your Editors 



I have a terrible time with myself. I get very self- 
destructive when things go bad. I am really so 
sinful, dirty, and hopeless that my conscious mind 
can't stand it. It boils down to the fact that I am 
sinful and Jesus hasn't or won't forgive me. 

Somehow you have picked up a really miserable 
self-image. How you got it, I don't know. Some 
studies show that low self-esteem is like an ailment 
which we catch from our parents. I am sure that 
this deep sore and self-hatred is just so much dead 
weight. You don't need it. Get rid of it! Are you 
not a child of Cod? In my experience, professional 
counseling and positive prayer are the best means 
for re-creating a limping self-image. — Dale White 



Some time ago Together mentioned a lawsuit in- 
volving a United Methodist agency and a sergeant 
of the National Guard in the Kent State University 
turmoil. Has it been resolved? 

The suit — $3 million against the Board of Church 
and Society — was filed by a member of the Ohio 
National Guard. He charged the board with "mali- 
cious libel" resulting from a report circulated by 
the board which claimed that the guardsman de- 
liberately fired his gun, setting off the shooting by 
other guardsmen which resulted in the deaths of 
four Kent State students in May, 1970. The case has 
not yet been settled by the courts. — Your Editors 



Have you a question about the Christian faith, the 
church, a social issue, a personal or family prob- 
lem? Perhaps You Asked . . . can provide an answer 
from our regular contributors, Bishop James S. 
Thomas or Dr. Dale White, or from some other 
church leader. Send questions to You Asked, c/o 
Together, 1661 N. Northwest Hwy., Park Ridge, III. 
60068. —Your Editors 



32 August-September 1973 TOGETHER 



OPEN PULPIT 



Are You Good Enough 



for Heaven? 



By Raymond VV. Gibson, Jr. 

Pastor, Trinity United Methodist Church 
Covington, Kentucky 



"For I tell you, unless your righteousness exceeds 
that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never 
enter the kingdom of heaven." — Matthew 5:20 



MALDWYN L. EDWARDS, the renowned English 
preacher, tells of the time he returned to one of 
his former parishes for a centennial celebration. 
No sooner had he appeared than he was cornered by a 
woman who proceeded to bring him up to date on her 
family. "And of course you know about my dear hus- 
band, Albert," she gushed. "Since you left, Reverend, 
Albert has died and gone to heaven!" 

Dr. Edwards says that he vaguely remembered Albert 
as a Christmas-and-Easter Christian whose personal 
moral life left much to be desired. Struggling to make 
conversation, he responded, "Oh! So Albert died and 
went to heaven? Well, I must say I'm sorry." 

Somehow that response did not seem well received, so 
Dr. Edwards tried again. "What I meant to say was, I'm 
glad!" 

The expression on the widow's face revealed that the 
amendment had done little to help the original state- 
ment, so Dr. Edwards made one last, heroic attempt. 
"What I really meant to say was, I'm surprised!" 

Sorrow. Gladness. Surprise. Three diverse emotions all 
triggered by a single statement. Surely, the text from 
Matthew's Gospel and the three preceding verses from 
the Sermon on the Mount easily arouse our emotions 
to a point paralleling those Dr. Edwards felt in his con- 
versation with Albert's widow. 

The first reaction many people have when they hear 
these words of Jesus is sorrow. They become sorrowful 
because Jesus plainly states (as Today's English Version 
puts it) that he has not ". . . come to do away with 
the Law of Moses and the teaching of the prophets . . . 
but to give them real meaning" (Matthew 5:17). Our 
sorrow begins when it becomes apparent that there is 
nothing easy or cheap about real Christianity. Those 
searching for bargain-basement faith and discount-house 
religion are always saddened. 

We're tempted to feel gladness, however, when we 
hear Jesus say that ". . . whoever obeys the Law, and 
teaches others to do the same, will be great in the 
Kingdom of heaven" (Matthew 5:19, TEV). That sounds 
like a religion of keeping rules, and it would make 



being a Christian mechanically simple. Don't drink, 
don't smoke, don't steal, don't murder, don't commit 
adultery. Be sure to attend church, read the Bible, and 
behave respectably in the community. 

"I really can't do all of that," people say happily. 
"But someday, after I've had my fling, I'll settle down 
and become a Christian and start obeying the rules so I 
can go to heaven!" 

But Jesus is far more demanding. He tells us in our 
text that "unless your righteousness exceeds that of the 
scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom 
of heaven." 

The scribes and Pharisees were the most respected 
theologians of their time, highly devout and pious peo- 
ple. Yet Jesus tells us that unless our righteousness ex- 
ceeds theirs, we shall never enter the kingdom of 
heaven. It is a surprising statement, and it seems a bit 
unfair and uncharacteristic of Jesus, almost too much for 
him to ask of us. 

But it isn't really, not if we understand what Jesus 
meant by righteousness. The scribes were lawyers, the 
interpreters of the law. They were the Perry Masons and 
Owen Marshalls of the first century. For them righteous- 
ness meant the correct understanding of the Law of 
God. 

The Pharisees were the practitioners of the Law. 
Pharisees means "separated ones," and they voluntarily 
separated themselves from the rest of humanity so that 
they might live the letter of the Law. They would 
not even talk to Gentiles. Their righteousness had a 
Lysol air about it, kind of antiseptic and ingrown. In 
spite of all their efforts to remain pure, however, their 
righteousness was polluted because it was self-righteous- 
ness. 

That kind of self-righteousness is still with us today. 
It shows up in suburban churches that want to pretend 
that the problems of the inner city have nothing to do 
with them. It is seen in the citizens who believe that 
the rape of Appalachia is none of their business. It 
flourishes wherever Christians try to pretend that poverty 
does not exist in the United States and that the sickness 
of racism eventually will heal itself. 

Centuries ago Jesus gave to mankind tour great 
ideas which, if accepted, would produce a new world. 
The first is that God loves every human being so much 
that we can trust him in both life and death. Secondly, 



August-September 1973 TOGETHER 33 



Jesus revealed that all human beings regardless of the 
color of their skins and the shape of their eyes are chil- 
dren of God. Third, he taught that since all human be- 
ings are God's children, each one of us ought to treat 
others as brothers. Finally, Jesus taught that a man's 
worth cannot be measured by his bank account, his 
stock portfolio, or his position, but by the service he 
renders to his fellowmen. 

Had these ideas been fully accepted by men, they 
would have brought an end to war, poverty, and racism 
in our world. The continuing existence of these problems 
is a reminder that our righteousness does not exceed 
that of the scribes and Pharisees. 

Still another weakness of these two groups was the 
emphasis they placed upon the negatives. It was a re- 
ligion of "Thou shalt not" more than a religion of 
"Thou shalt." 

Jesus was impatient with such narrow-mindedness. 
Once he told them sternly: "But woe to you, scribes 
and Pharisees, hypocrites! because you shut the kingdom 
of heaven against men; for you neither enter yourselves, 
nor allow those who would enter to go in. Woe to you, 
scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for you traverse sea 
and land to make a single proselyte, and when he be- 
comes a proselyte, you make him twice as much a child 
of hell as yourselves." (Matthew 23:13, 15.) 

Christians must not forget that ours is a religion of 
grace with forgiveness as its very cornerstone. Without 
the forgiveness of God as revealed on the cross, we 
would all be lost. 

Eugene L. Smith, in his book Mandate for Mission, 
relates a story which perfectly illustrates the broader 
righteousness which we as individuals and as a church 
must seek. 

A banker and prominent churchman in a small mid- 
western town was imprisoned for embezzlement. Some 
church members wanted the family taken off the church 
rolls, and they expressed this at a board meeting. Some- 
one reminded the board that the wife and children had 
done no wrong, and besides such action would require 
an unpleasant church trial. Then another person stood 
and read Jesus' parable from the 18th chapter of Mat- 
thew in which our Lord told of one who was forgiven 
of a large debt by his master but who in turn refused 
to forgive another of a smaller debt. There was a long 
silence. 

When the discussion began again, it was different. 
A plan was developed by which the member in prison 
would receive a letter of encouragement from a mem- 
ber of the board and a personal visit from another mem- 
ber each week. The day the banker was released from 
prison he was met at the gate by all of the officials of 
the church. They drove back to the church together 
and in the sanctuary all received the sacrament of Holy 
Communion, the service which celebrates God's forgive- 
ness of sins in Christ Jesus. 

The people of that church discovered what it means to 
exceed the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees. 

The religion of the scribes and Pharisees was a safe, 
no-risk religion with no grand dreams and no towering 
vision. They represented the establishment of their day, 
the pillars of the community. Jesus represented change 
and challenge to the status quo, and that was why he 
was such a powerful threat to their existence. 



The church of Jesus Christ was never meant to be a 
slow-moving, shell-bound creature, frightened by its own 
imagination and ashamed of its Lord. Neither can 
Christians who aspire to attain the kingdom of heaven 
afford to be timid souls who play it safe and easy. They 
must be men and women willing to risk everything for 
Jesus. 

Are you good enough for heaven? Most of us would 
have to answer with a somewhat anxious no. A young 
woman once startled me by saying, "Ray, I am sure that 
if I were to die tonight, I would not go to heaven. I 
have too many faults. I don't love my fellow human be- 
ings enough." 

She spoke for the majority of us if we think of heaven 
as some faraway place in the sweet by-and-by. But if 
we understand the kingdom of heaven as Jesus taught it 
— the reign of God in the lives of men — then this young 
woman, a radiant Christian, is in heaven already. Simply 
put, the kingdom of God is the saving knowledge that 
God loves us even though we are often unlovely, the 
awareness that God forgives us even when we cannot 
forgive ourselves, the assurance that God accepts us 
when we cannot accept ourselves. 

The scribes and Pharisees never understood this — 
just as many do not understand it today. Once they 
approached Jesus and asked him when the kingdom of 
God was coming. His reply surely must have dumb- 
founded them: "The kingdom of God is not coming with 
signs to be observed; nor will they say, 'Lo, here it is!' 
or 'There!' for behold, the kingdom of God is in the 
midst of you." (Luke 17:20-21.) 

The kingdom of heaven is here and now — in your 
church, in your home or your office, wherever you are 
if you have surrendered all that you know of yourself to 
all that you know of Jesus. Whenever we submit all of 
our sin and all of our doubt and all of our pride to 
Christ, the reign of God begins in our lives. Paul ex- 
plained the geography of heaven perfectly when he told 
his Roman readers: "For the kingdom of God does not 
mean food and drink but righteousness and peace and 
joy in the Holy Spirit." (Romans 14:17.) 

Are you good enough for heaven? Of course not. None 
of us is. Does our righteousness exceed that of the 
scribes and Pharisees? Probably not. They lived up to the 
letter of the Law far better than most of us can hope to. 
They were renowned for their righteousness. Yet Jesus 
made it plain that they still were not good enough for 
the Kingdom. No one is. And that is precisely the point 
that Jesus sought to make: It is impossible to be good 
enough on our own to enter the kingdom of heaven. 

Who, then, can hope to be good enough for heaven? 
This was the question the disciples asked. 

The answer is still the same: "With men it is im- 
possible, but not with God; for all things are possible 
with God" (Mark 10:27). We are saved by the gift of 
God's mercy, not by the merits of our own righteous- 
ness. 

Christianity is founded upon the gospel, not the 
Law. We are saved by grace through faith, not by 
works through law. We are made good enough for 
heaven by what Jesus did, not by what we do. If we 
believe the gospel and accept Christ as Lord, we are 
already in the kingdom of heaven — and that is the 
only way we can get there. □ 



J4 Augusi September 1973 TOGETHI R 



Say It! 



Our editors may or may not agree with opinions 
expressed, but they believe in your right to Say It! 
And that is what this department is for. 
Does an idea of yours need saying? Send it to Say It! 
7667 N. Northwest Highway, Park Ridge, III. 60068 



Movies and TV have long been 
criticized for the violence and sex 
which their stories portray. Much of 
that criticism is deserved. However, 
I wonder if we are not overlooking 
a more damaging area of 
programming, one which subtly 
affects our children's morals and 
our own as well. 

I'm thinking of programs such as 
TV's Search and Mission: Impossible. 
Such programs show the heros and 
heroines pursuing good goals by 
employing any means — legal or 
illegal, moral or immoral. The plot 
implies that good ends cannot 
always be achieved by legal and 
moral means. The old adage, 
"You must fight fire with fire," 
becomes a central theme. 

We hear the same basic argument 
used in our political and business 
life. I believe it is our duty as 
Christians to remind the world that 
God's will (the good end) can only 
be achieved by obeying God's 
commandments and living the life 
of Christ. 

Mrs. Sandra M. Kandler 
Bradenton, Fla. 



Some church leaders have supported 
boycotts of grapes, lettuce, and 
other farm products. The boycotts 
are intended to prevent customers 
from buying products which do not 
carry the label of the United Farm 
Workers union. This is the union 
headed by Cesar Chavez. 
Supporters of the boycotts claim 
they are necessary to get social 
justice for the workers involved. But 
a careful look at the facts indicates 
that there is little real justice 
in any boycott. 

The right to organize and join 
unions is unquestioned. But with it 
there is another and equal right — 
the right not to join. This is the right 
which is being trampled upon by 
all who support the boycotts. 



There is another grave injustice. 
Economic boycotts hurt everyone 
who has a product to sell. Many 
small producers don't even hire 
outside labor. The labor is performed 
by members of the family. And 
yet, they are made to suffer because 
their product doesn't carry the 
prescribed label. 

In many cases, the boycott is a 
punitive device designed to force 
workers out of one union and 
into another. 

A great many people believe it is 
morally wrong to use an economic 
boycott to enforce a demand. It is 
amazing that religious leaders took 
such a course in the first place. 
Where in Christian teaching is there 
reference to the use of economic 
force in order to get compliance 
from people? 

Earl W. McMunn, Editor 
The Ohio Farmer 
Columbus, Ohio 



After reading Will the Third Great 
Awakening Miss the Churches? 
[page 15] and Mr. Aycock's 
comments in 5ay It! [page 19] in 
the May Together, I have to 
"say it" myself. 

As a military wife, I've come into 
contact with both charismatic and 
conservative persons — and very few 
share my particular outlook and 
understanding. However, I do share 
with these groups a desire to spread 



the Christian message. Consequently 
I share religious activities with them. 

The charismatic people have 
taught me that I need to convey 
my beliefs and Christian 
understanding. (They also concern 
me because they feel I need an 
experience similar to theirs to be a 
genuine Christian.) 

The conservatives have 
reminded me of the need I 
have for Christ as Savior. (But I 
feel they have failed me with their 
concepts of evangelism and mission 
because it means so often that one 
must adopt their way and 
interpretation to be a genuine 
Christian. The liberal is no better 
when he presents his ideas; i.e., the 
Social Creed as "the Way.") 

What really seems to be needed 
by all Christians, no matter which 
path they take to Christ, is a 
reevaluation of themselves in light 
of the two great commandments 
Christ gave us: to love God with all 
one's heart and to love one's 
neighbor as oneself. 

If this love were shown and used 
by all who call themselves Christian, 
there would be no need for the 
Social Creed which Mr. Aycock 
dislikes defending or for many 
of our laws. We wouldn't need a 
welfare program because love 
would take care of those in need 
and show them a better way. We 
wouldn't need the military to stop 
communism because Christian love 
is superior to any other 
communistic system. 

I have been accused of being 
unrealistic in expressing these ideas 
— but were not the early Christians 
thought to be crazy by their 
contemporaries? We can achieve 
these radical changes by letting the 
Holy Spirit live in us as we show 
our love for God and neighbor. 

Mrs. Margery A. Schleicher 
Fort Benning, Ga. 



&&c 




August-September 1973 TOCETHLR 35 







HHHHHHHH 







■■■■IJ 



GIVEYWIiiiiUHi 

Glf! M BIMHIH6 



By Julius Segal 



Since 1959, Dr. Segal has been a psychologist on the 
Staff of the National Institute of Mental Health, 
Bethesda, Md. He has written articles for a number of 
national magazines, is co-author of two books, and has 
appeared on many television programs including the 
J"oda) Show, the Tonight Show, and the Dick Cavett 
Show. In 1'K>7 he became the lirst psychologist to re- 
ci ive the Distinguished Science Writer's Award of the 
American Psychological Association. — Your Editors 



"Don't just sit there, for heaven's sake. Do something!" 

Those commands, or reasonably similar ones, are 
spoken each day in countless homes across the country. 

They are addressed to idle children sprawled in im- 
possible poses before the fireplace, draped across un- 
made beds, or sitting alone on easy chairs, surrounded 
by the gathering dusk. They are delivered by parents 
for whom inactivity has become a social sin, for whom 
doing the tangible, accomplishing the constructive, and 
learning the factual are the essential goals of childhood. 

In our /est for helping (or pushing) our children up 
the ladder of success, we thus often abuse an important 
aspect of their growth — the idle moments of introspec- 



•{(, \,, u ' ■ ptember 1973 fOCI miK 



tion and rumination, the hours of pure fantasy and day- 
dreaming that are so precious to the young mind and 
so vital to the development of a rich personality. 

When a child hears a distant, abrasive voice breaking 
into his reverie, he may, for example, be forced to leave 
the controls of a rocket in mid-orbit; to tell a Hollywood 
director no, I can't do that screen test with Dustin 
Hoffman; to give up the last precious step in a crucial 
chemical experiment; or to stop just short of finding 
a satisfactory answer to the riddle of birth or death — 
an answer no adult could give to a question that no adult 
could understand. 

The fact that such apparently unproductive pursuits 
are private does not reduce their real value. "A man is 
not idle," wrote Victor Hugo, "because he is absorbed 
in thought. There is a visible labour and there is an 
invisible labour." 

The same is true for the child — only the private work- 
ings of a child's mind are even more precious than those 
of the adult's. The youngster who is rudely catapulted 
from his idle moments in the lazy world of fantasy and 
solitary thought is being blocked from more than a 
temporary feeling of happiness and well-being, important 
as that is. He is being deprived of an opportunity to test 
the limits of his soaring interests, or to develop an identi- 
fication with heroic figures, or to puzzle out a personal 
solution to one of life's perplexities. 

These pursuits are not tangible, but they are as im- 
portant in their own way as the hours spent learning 
the Boy Scout code, the multiplication tables, the piano 
scales, or the stance that Little Leaguers must take at 
home plate. Being President, even for a few imaginative 
minutes, is undoubtedly as enriching an experience as 
memorizing the Gettysburg Address. 

Consider this description of the normal seven-year- 
old by Dr. Arnold Cesell, derived from years of careful 
observations at the Yale Clinic of Child Development. 
"The seven-year-old goes into lengthening periods of 
calmness and self-absorption, during which he works 
his impressions over and over, oblivious to the outer 
world. ... He needs his moments of reflection as well 
as of action. Through his inner life as well as through 
his outward conduct, he achieves his adjustments. . . . 
We cannot do justice to the psychology of the seven- 
year-old unless we recognize the importance of his pri- 
vate mental activities." 

Why is it then that we cheat our children, as one wise 
mother put it, by insisting on an endless round of 
planned activities that leaves no room for the spontane- 
ous and private joys of idleness, the jeweled and magical 
moments of loafing and daydreaming so dear to our 
own childhood? 

The answer lies partly in the natural tendency we 
have to impose on our children some of the values and 
attitudes that motivate us as adults. The double A's of 
modern, competitive life, achievement and adjustment, 
have become the criteria of the good life, not only for 
ourselves but, through us, for our children as well. 
Our children are being asked to join us in the cutthroat 
competitiveness and the shabby win-or-else complex of 
the adult jungle. 

The talents of many a tender, contemplative child 
will not survive the junior rat race toward success and 
popularity. Sandy, a ten-year-old in our neighborhood, 



is typical. Her week is crammed with an unending series 
of intellectual and social obligations — from language les- 
sons to music classes, from carefully programmed library 
visits to parent-planned parties. 

At the end of a day, my curlyheaded friend is as 
tired and emotionally spent as her frenetic parents. 
More important, she is given no pause to dream instead 
of do, to reflect and wonder instead of work and accom- 
plish. Sandy is a product of an age well described by 
sociologist David Riesman who notes that "we live now, 
think later." 

The modern computer expert would diagnose us, and 
our children, as suffering from "too many inputs." The 
channels of communication to our minds are dangerously 
overloaded with information and ideas that tantalize us 
at every turn. We force our brains, like Sandy's, to accept 
input after input as we move from night school to busi- 
ness meeting to PTA to concert hall to bowling alley to 
book club. 

Our intent is to miss nothing, but the result is that 
we miss ourselves. Nowhere in such a psychologically 
cluttered environment are there the moments of peace 
to contemplate our lives, to reflect about our needs and 
interests, or to fantasy our wildest dreams. The thought 
of idleness fills us with guilt, and we cannot, of course, 
accept in our children what we reject for ourselves. 

V V E WOULD DO well to ponder the observation of 
Loren Eiseley, a leading American educator. "There are 
other truths," writes Dr. Eiseley, "than those contained in 
laboratory burners, on blackboards, or in test tubes." 
These are the truths that the child discovers for him- 
self in the privacy of his own experiences. 

Our children have little opportunity for such dis- 
coveries. If a youngster wants to sit and whittle, we 
sign him up for a course at the Y three nights a week 
and call it wood carving, thus transforming a refreshingly 
aimless pursuit into a debilitating "artistic" endeavor. 
Let a child bounce a ball or scratch a grubby design in 
the dust, and we lavish on him a king's ransom in 
equipment. 

Our hunger to have our children achieve practical 
goals is matched only by our need to have them meet 
modern standards of adjustment — the ability to mix and 
be socially popular. As a result, for the contemporary 
American, moments of seclusiveness and solitude are 
conditions to be avoided and even feared. 

It is an unforgivable sin of our society that we have 
equated a spirit of contemplation with "oddball" per- 
sonality; there is little room left today for the young 
thinker. Thou shalt socialize is the eleventh command- 
ment of modern juvenile life. The den, made for soli- 
tude, has become the family room, outfitted for frenzied 
activity. The theme of suburban living is togetherness 
— in the Scout troop, the dancing class, the ball field. 
There are few opportunities for precious aloneness in 
a field of clover or on the front-porch rocker. 

Many parents view the child who lacks an outgoing 
personality as the victim of a serious psychological 
problem. I have met some mothers who recoil at the 
private introspections of their children, taking them as 
the symptoms of an incipient psychosis. 

To be sure, chronic daydreaming and withdrawal are 



Augu-M-September 1<)7.1 TOGETHER 37 



hardly the signs of good mental health. The habitually 
seclusive and pensive child should be given professional 
attention. And the child who regularly wanders into 
fantasy when he should be working — at school, for ex- 
ample — also needs help. 

But this does not mean that our children should be 
deprived of the luxury of retreating at times into their 
private worlds of inaction and reverie. The fact is that 
such behavior, far from being pathological, is often the 
springboard for true accomplishment. Too often we fail 
to recognize that the freedom to conjure and dream 
in flights of the imagination is an integral element of 
the truly creative process. 

Recent research on sleep and dreams has exposed 
anew the importance of our fantasy life. Many of the 
world's most creative insights have occurred not in mo- 
ments of intense concentration on the workaday world 
but when the person was totally absorbed in his inner 
world of dreams. Robert Louis Stevenson, for example, 
used his nightly dreams as sources for his stories. August 
Kekule, a noted German scientist of the 18th century, 
translated one of his daydreams into a classic discovery 
in organic chemistry. He imagined a snake holding its 
tail in its mouth and suddenly recognized that the fantasy 
was important to certain structural problems he was 
trying to solve. His own inner life produced the concept 
of the benzene ring. 

No longer do psychologists regard dreams only as win- 
dows to lurking pathology. Today we see the dream as 
a rich part of man's creative and reflective process. The 
Senoi people of the Malay Peninsula long have known 
this truth and acted on it. At breakfast, Senoi families 
discuss one another's dreams openly together, and 
from seemingly idle fantasies, each child is encouraged 
to learn lessons that will be useful in his waking world. 

Perhaps it is the struggle for private inner experiences 
that propels so many of our contemporary youth onto 
the dangerous path of drug use. By their own testimony, 
many youngsters today are repelled by the fruitless 
attempts of the adults around them to respond only to 
external demands, to worry only about the world out- 
side. 

Recently, investigators at Harvard University studied 
the physiological effects of a meditation technique 
known as transcendental meditation. The technique is 
simple. The person sits alone for a brief period each day, 
eyes closed, thinking about a particular sound, without 
forcing concentration or even considering the meaning 
of the idle thoughts that float through his mind. Among 
400 students interviewed after practicing transcendental 
meditation, 84 percent judged that their mental health 
had improved significantly, some specifying that they 
had fewer depressions and suicidal thoughts. The impact 
on drug use was considerable. For example, 80 percent 
of the students had smoked marijuana. After 6 months, 
only 36 percent continued; after 21 months, only 12 
percent were smokers. Similarly, the use of LSD dropped 
from 48 percent to 3 percent. Abuse of narcotics, 
amphetamines, and barbiturates also declined sharply. 
The researchers found a total reversal of formerly favor- 
able attitudes toward drug use. 

The opportunity to refresh the inward spirit rather 
than to please the world outside may be more important 
than we suspect. Many of the world's great creative 



spirits, I am convinced, would have dropped out the bot- 
tom of a modern psychologist's test for outgoingness 
and sociability. "I love tranquil solitude," sang the poet, 
Shelley, and it is doubtful whether it was group social 
activity that produced a Plato, a Da Vinci, or an Edison. 

Even if the child's idle moments were never to result 
in intellectual accomplishments, they would continue 
to serve an important role in emotional development. 
Each of us, young or old, needs a private compartment 
of his mind that is not, could not be, shared with any- 
one. It is here that the child keeps private doubts too 
scandalous to reveal, private fears and hates too embar- 
rassing to expose, private hopes too improbably gaudy 
to relate. Youngsters need idle moments to review their 
store of such thoughts and feelings and to decide which 
of them they are ready to share with us. 

Who has not used idle flights of fancy as a means of 
healing a bruised and battered ego? Who has not 
dreamed the kind of daydreams that offer the sweet 
smell of success at times when reality provides only pain 
and defeat? 

I recall with clarity how I found refuge in pretending I 
was an orchestra conductor when I was troubled as a 
child. My fantasies sealed forever the bond between me 
and great music, a bond of love that has enriched my 
life and sustained me at times of personal misfortune. 

An old hand-crank Victrola became for me a fully live 
symphony orchestra, and the staff of a discarded flag 
was transformed into a conductor's baton. I would stand 
before a spinning record exhorting my orchestra to pro- 
duce for me ever greater crescendos of sound, fancying 
myself a young Toscanini who would one day inherit the 
maestro's podium. 

One afternoon when no one else was at home, Tos- 
canini did in fact fall ill. I was called by a frantic concert 
manager from the kitchen to the dining room where 
the Victrola stood, and I was asked to take over the 
orchestra. Modestly, I accepted, and conducted an entire 
symphony from memory. 

I was, in the best tradition of Walter Mitty, a smash- 
ing success, and I shall never forget my wise mother 
turning her glance aside when she returned home. She 
knew better than to intrude and spoil my victory. 

Hours like these took me from my childish disappoint- 
ments and griefs. No matter that my joys were private, 
or that I was never a Little Leaguer or a Boy Scout. No 
matter, too, that my involvement in music has never 
amounted to more than a terribly precious hobby. My 
life has been enriched in ways too profound to measure 
on any test of achievement. 

The late psychiatrist, Harry Stack Sullivan, maintained 
that it is only in the years before we become adults that 
our spirits are sufficiently untarnished to realize true hap- 
piness. "I believe that for a great majority of our people," 
wrote Dr. Sullivan, "preadolescence is the nearest they 
come to untroubled human life, that from then on the 
stresses of life distort them to inferior caricatures of what 
they might have been." 

We must help our children live their untroubled days 
as they were meant to be lived, as a time of building for 
the difficult years ahead. To do so, they must have from 
us a precious gift — the gift of dreaming. □ 



38 Auku' I 5epti mbei 1973 rOCI l"HER 




Rev MA 



Jill 

HIE 




lilt 
III* 



A Morning at Ebenezer 



By Mary Ella Stuart 



IT WAS A bright April Sunday 
morning in Atlanta, Ga., and we 
decided to walk to Ebenezer 
Baptist Church. Intentionally, we ar- 
rived an hour before the worship 
service was to begin. 

A few yards from the church, a 
high white circular fence surrounds 
the now famous grave. A plain gray 
marble stone with the words "Free 
at last, free at last /Thank God, I'm 
free at last" covers the grave. An 
eternal flame burns at its west end. 

Almost automatically one recalls 
the voice heard on television: "I 
have a dream ... I have a dream." 
Then, the exact words inscribed here 
on the grave marker just as he him- 
self had spoken them. 

The church is somewhat smaller, 
less impressive than I had pictured it. 
But the sanctuary is just as I had seen 
it on television that day, and I could 
still envision Coretta King and her 
children sitting to the left of the 
center front pew — Harry Belafonte 
next to her, Jacqueline Kennedy 



toward the back, and so many of our 
country's great sitting in this humble 
Baptist church. I could close my 
eyes and hear again the voice of the 
late Mahalia Jackson singing, "Hold 
my hand, precious Lord, lead me 
on." 

In a short time the nave was filled 
with worshipers, including many 
visitors like ourselves. Members of 
Ebenezer often have to use overflow 
rooms, equipped with closed-circuit 
television, in order to participate in 
the service. Martin Luther King, Sr., 
still Ebenezer's pastor, still erect and 
strong at 76, appeared with two 
other men on the platform in front 
of the choir loft. 

The Scripture was from the parable 
of the lost sheep: "What man of 
you, having an hundred sheep, if he 
lose one of them, doth not leave the 
ninety and nine in the wilderness, 
and go after that which is lost, until 
he find it?" (Luke 15:4, KJV.) The 
sermon which followed was much 
like I used to hear as a child at camp 
meetings: 

"No man ever plans to be lost," 
said Dr. King. "Just like the little 
sheep, he starts nibblin' at the sweet 



green grass all around him and he 
jus' keeps nibblin' and nibblin' and 
finding still greener grass to nibble. 
And pretty soon the sun goes down, 
but he doesn't know it 'cause he's 
having such a good time. 'Fore he 
knows it, it's dark, and he's nibbled 
himself a long ways from home and 
he's lost. 

"No alcoholic ever plans on being 
one. He thinks he'll just take a 
social drink with his friends — jus' 
nibblin', you know — and pretty soon 
he's got so he can't do without it 
and he's lost. He can't find his way 
home. He's nibbled too long. 

"And then there's the man who is 
married — and he hasn't any idea of 
getting lost. But he sees that pretty 
gal an' he stays out with her, and 
'fore he knows it it's two o'clock in 
the mornin'. He begins wonderin' 
what he'll tell his wife. Now that man 
never planned to get lost, nor to be 
a liar either. But he got to nibblin' 
and before he knew it he was lost. 

"Then there were some people in 
the church that got to pickin' on the 
minister and on what was goin' on 
there. Nothin' was right, and their 
faces began to look sour and hate- 



August-September 1973 TOGETHER 39 




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ful — just nibblin' away with gossip 
and fault-findin' till 'fore they know 
it, they're lost and can't find their 
way back. They never planned not to 
be loving, but they started nibblin'. 

"I tell you people I hate sin! But 
I don't hate the sinner. I don't hate 
Earl Ray — I refuse to hate him. I hate 
the sin that got in him and made him 
kill my son. But I plan to go on lovin' 
him in spite of everything. I love 
everybody. I love each one of you — 
no matter what color you are or what 
your hair is like. (I even like my own 
hair — what little I've got!) We get 
lost when we hate the sinner but 
don't do anything about helping him 
get rid of the sin." 

The sermon was simple, direct, ef- 
fective. The air was full of emotion, 
and I found a tear running down my 
cheek. I've missed this kind of simple 
preaching with its conviction of sin. 
We are so afraid of guilt complexes 
and personal moral conviction these 
days that most sermons are almost 
completely lacking in emphasis on 
individual responsibility. 

The life of Martin Luther King, )r., 
took on a new dimension as we 
heard this man of Cod who was his 
father. The senior Dr. King is the 
incarnation of his preaching. No 
wonder he produced such a son! 

During the altar call, we sang 
softly, "Just as i am without one 
plea." Shouts of "Amen" and "Yes, 
Lord" rang throughout the church. 
Two persons came forward to make 
commitments for Christ. As we were 
dismissed, members of the congrega- 
tion were encouraged to shake hands 
with others within immediate reach. 

How often life's most challenging 
and rewarding experiences take place 
"on the edges," as it were, of the 
places where we expect to find 
meaning. We were in Atlanta for the 
meeting of our church's most im- 
portant assembly, the General Con- 
ference. But for me, that Sunday 
morning at Ebenezer Church was one 
of those times when, as C. S. Lewis 
expressed it in the title of his auto- 
biography, we were "surprised by 
joy." □ 




the common cough is a reflex to 
clear your lungs. The air has been 
clocked at up to 500 mph. That's 
some hurricane. That's how 
seriously your lungs take breath- 
ing. The nagging cough is that plus 
a warning: something is chroni- 
cally irritating your breathing. 
The danger lies in not taking it 
seriously. 

one pint of air. At rest you 
inhale about one pint of air per 
breath — over a gallon per minute. 
At work this can rise to 1 000 
gallons an hour. In a year it 
amounts to a million-odd gallons. 
And today just one pint of city air 
contains over a million bits of 
foreign matter: dust, fumes, 
germs, pollen. It adds up. 

two things to do. If you have a 
chronic cough or shortness of 
breath, take it seriously. See your 
doctor. The sooner you get good 
advice, the better your chances. 
And right now send for your 
choice of the leaflets below. They 
are another free service from your 
local Christmas Seal people. 

CHECK CHOICE OF FREE LEAFLETS 
AMERICAN LUNG ASSOCIATION 
G.P.O. BOX 596. NEW YORK. NY. 10001 

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40 



Augusl-Srplc-mber 1071 TOGtTHIK 




WHY IS THE 
CHURCH SO INTERESTED? 



By Helen Johnson 

Associate Editor, Together 



VERY FEW of us look like stars 
on television, but we all share 
a thrill when we see ourselves 
on the tube. I was no exception as I 
sat in the Nebraska Center for Con- 
tinuing Education watching myself 
interview some Nebraska Wesleyan 
University students about their atti- 
tudes toward dormitory and dating 
policies on the campus. 

The interview was being fed to a 
perfectly ordinary television set by a 
tape recorder. A United Methodist 
minister, the Rev. Earl H. Reed of 
Loup City, Nebr., and I had made the 
tape as an assignment during a short 
course on cable TV. 

We filmed our interviews with a 
portable video-tape recorder that 
consisted of a television camera small 
enough to hold in your hands and 
a battery-powered recording unit 
zipped into a case with a shoulder 
strap so it could be carried over the 
shoulder. 

Portable? Well, yes, but preferably 
portable by two people. Each of us 
interviewed, and each of us taped, 
and if the results weren't professional 
quality, they convinced us that this 
was something we could do success- 
fully with a little practice. A group of 
students accompanied by Phyllis 
Johnson of New York University's 
Alternate Media Center, who was 
there to teach us how to use equip- 
ment, did tape an appealing se- 
quence that showed children from 
a day-care center in Lincoln's Ep- 
worth United Methodist Church as 
they played in a nearby park. 

The 43 short-course students came 
from ten states and represented a 
cross section of the church. Some 
had had practical experience with 
cable TV or television production. 
Others, like me, had had none. Our 
"faculty" included people with solid 
background in television from the 
United Methodist Communications 




a 
li 



The Rev. Earl H. Reed is at the camera as the Rev. Julius E. 
Early from Amarilio, Texas (left), and the Rev. Bill Richards from 
United Methodist Communications simulate a "talk" show. 



staff (formerly TRAFCO), the Na- 
tional Council of Churches' Broad- 
casting and Film Commission (BFC), 
the Alternate Media Center, the Chris- 
tian Church, and the United Church 
of Christ. 

The short course on the University 
of Nebraska campus at Lincoln was 
one of a series of regional workshops 
on cable TV the church is holding 
across the country. It was sponsored 
by United Methodism's South Cen- 
tral Jurisdiction in cooperation with 
the church's Joint Committee on 
Communications, Nebraska Confer- 
ence Communications, and the BFC. 

Why should the church be so in- 
terested in cable TV? For that matter, 
what is cable TV? 

CATV, or Community Antenna 
Television, began a little over 20 
years ago when the first master 
antennas were installed on mountain- 
tops to feed hard-to-get TV signals 
to subscribers' sets in the valleys be- 




low. The feeding was done via in- 
terference-free coaxial cable, and it 
brought excellent pictures and sound 
to the sets of subscribers who paid 
installation and monthly service fees. 
It had nothing to do with the orig- 
ination of programs; it was purely a 
commercial venture, but it brought 
television to a widening number of 
communities. 

For a long time bringing pictures to 
sets in poor reception areas was all 
that CATV did do. But one coaxial 
cable can carry from 12 to 20 chan- 
nels, and either through one cable 
or several connected cables it offers 
a practically unlimited potential. 

Cable TV can bring us local news 
and information in greater detail than 
we get from over-the-air broadcasts. 
It gives political candidates a way to 
reach the public at costs they and 
their parties can afford. 

A community organization can 
hold a meeting without people ever 



August-September 1973 TOGETHER 41 



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having to leave home. You can vote 
by using a signaling device installed 
on your set. Similar two-way equip- 
ment lets children who aren't able to 
go to school be taught at home. 

Local boards of education or com- 
munity colleges can offer adult-edu- 
cation courses. Ethnic groups can 
share their festivals and customs. 
Various special interests can be 
served because cable TV does not re- 
quire mass audiences as over-the-air 
broadcasting does. There is room for 
every element in the community to 
have its say. 

Cable makes pay television a prac- 
tical possibility. And in the future we 
may do our banking and shopping 
by cable TV. Utility companies may 
read our meters through it. Our tele- 
vision sets may act as burglar alarms 
or health monitoring systems. With 
a facsimile attachment, the set may 
deliver our newspaper in print-out 
form. We may even get some of our 
mail by TV. 

More important than all of these, 
though, are public-access channels. 
Each cable system must provide at 
least one, and when anybody asks 
for time to say something, the 
operator must grant a minimum of 
five minutes free time on the public 
access channel in which to say it. 
People are taken on a first-come, 
first-served basis, and the cable- 
system operator has no control over 
what is said other than to insist that 
it cannot be obscene or defamatory. 

The church can be present on 
cable TV in a variety of ways from 
worship services to drama and dis- 
cussion programs. You may find 
such programs on the local-origina- 
tion channels that larger systems (over 
3,500 subscribers) are required to 
have. But if a group of churches 
feels that their cable operator isn't 
interested enough in the kind of pro- 
gramming they think the system 
should have, they can lease a channel 
to use any way they want to. 

A key factor in such do-it-yourself 
TV is the portable black-and-white 
video-tape recorder. This costs around 
$1,500, which is expensive for most 
local churches. However, one unit 
can be used cooperatively by a group 
of churches. Or one could be owned 
by a district or a conference. The 
half-inch video tape it turns out isn't 
prime broadcast quality, but it can 
be used for transmission in a cable 
TV studio merely by making some 



simple and inexpensive adaptations. 

Entirely apart from cable-system 
use, a portable unit has many uses 
within a local church. It can be used 
as closed-circuit TV. Young people 
can take tapes of worship services to 
shut-ins, hospitals, or nursing homes. 
Youth can study "adult culture" via 
video tape. Tapes of laboratory 
schools and other teacher-training 
events can be brought back to peo- 
ple who couldn't attend them per- 
sonally. Groups can get an immediate 
playback of themselves in action and 
perhaps improve their functioning. 
Drama can be put on the TV screen. 
The minister can see his pulpit per- 
formance. 

The possibilities are endless — in a 
few minutes the students at the 
Lincoln short course came up with 
nearly 50 suggestions — and the tele- 
vision screen has a powerful fascina- 
tion for people. It seems to be more 
personal than seeing the same thing 
on film, and the cost of using video 
tape is tiny in comparison to the 
cost of sound motion-picture film, 
especially when you realize that tape 
can be reused a number of times. 

But the church also is looking out- 
ward to the effect that cable TV can 
have on the quality of our lives. 
Cable can unite people into a greater 
sense of community and creativity, 
but it can divide, too. It all depends 
on how it is used. 



Resources on Cable TV 

* A Short Course in Cable. Twelve- 
page booklet available free from 
the Office of Communication, 
United Church of Christ, 289 Park 
Ave. S., New York, N.Y. 10010. 

* Cable Television: A Cuide for 
Citizen Action (Pilgrim Press, 
$2.95). Excellent paperback book 
by Monroe Price and John Wick- 
lein. 

* Cable Television in the Cities 
(The Urban Institute, 2100 M St. 
N.W., Washington, D.C. 20037, 
$3.95). On community control, 
public access, and minority owner- 
ship. 

* Cable Information. Monthly 
newsletter issued by Cable Infor- 
mation Service, National Council 
of Churches, Room 852, 475 
Riverside Dr., New York, N.Y. 
10027. $10 a year. 

* The Wired Nation (Harper & Row 
Colophon paperback, $1.95) b 
Ralph Lee Smith. 



" 



42 August-September 1973 TOGETHER 



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Nearly 5 million people in this 
country are served by some 2,800 
cable systems, and more than 2,000 
other communities have granted fran- 
chises and are waiting for systems to 
be built. The industry is looking for- 
ward to having 30 million homes on 
the line by 1980. 

Practically all cable systems today 
are owned by private enterprise and 
are operated solely to make a profit. 
Alternate forms of ownership include 
nonprofit community corporations, 
municipal ownership, and ownership 
by a community association or a 
coalition of community groups. 

On March 1, 1972, Federal Com- 
munications Commission (FCC) rules 
for cable TV went into effect. How- 
ever, cable systems in the top 100 
television markets that were in ex- 
istence before that time were given 
five years to bring their operations 
up to standards. These standards call 
for at least one public-access chan- 
nel, one channel for local govern- 
ment, one channel for education, 
and one channel on which the sys- 
tem can orginate its own programs. 
Then, in accordance with CATV's 
original function, each system must 
provide subscribers with the regular 
programming of all three networks 
and all local TV stations within a 
radius of 35 miles. 

The FCC certifies franchises and 
requires that they meet minimum 
standards and have received an 
"adequate" public hearing. But the 
FCC does not insist that each fran- 
chise provide for the full potentiali- 
ties of cable. Only an alert and in- 
formed community can assure itself 
of this. 

The time for people to become 
alert and informed is before the 
question of franchise even comes up. 
This is where church people can pro- 
vide much-needed leadership. The 
Broadcasting and Film Commission 
and the communications divisions of 
several denominations can supply 
bibliographies and other basic in- 
formation that will help communities 
learn what they can expect from a 
good franchise and how they can 
keep from being shortchanged by a 
bad one. 

And what about those communi- 
ties that do have inadequate fran- 
chises? With creative community in- 
volvement, there are still a lot of 
things to be done, and here again 
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the 

song 

dooR 
that 
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together 




THE GENESIS SONGBOOK" 

Compiled by: Carlton R. Young 



Some of the Songs 
Included Are: 

Turn Turn Turn 

If I Had A Hammer 

The Sound Of Silence 

Day By Day 

Morning Has Broken 

This Land Is Your Land 

Let It Be 

Blowin' In The Wind 

Lift Every Voice and Sing 

Put Your Hand In The Hand 

I'd Like to Teach the World 

to Sing 
Let There be Peace on 

Earth 



75 TOP TUNES 



Some of the Composers 
Represented Are: 

Pete Seeger 
Paul Simon 
Enk Routley 
John Lennon 
Stephen Schwartz 
Avery and Marsh 
Paul McCartney 
Carole King 
Malvma Reynolds 
Woody Guthrie 
Sydney Carter 



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August-September 1973 TOGETHER 43 



Kaleidoscope 



A Christian focus on the visions of reality and illusion 
that come to us from books, music, broadcasting, the 
theater, and other art forms. 



The decision the United States 
Supreme Court handed down June 
21 defines obscenity more spe- 
cifically than previous court rulings, 
but it still may result in many 
variances of interpretation. In per- 
mitting states to forbid descriptions 
of sexual conduct that are "patently 
offensive" and lack "serious literary, 
artistic, political, or scientific values," 
the Supreme Court leaves it up to 
community attitudes to decide what 
"patently offensive" is. 

Less permissive than former Su- 
preme Court decisions, the recent 
ruling reflects a ground swell of re- 
sistance to the increasing number of 
movie houses showing X-rated films, 
the ads for adults-only films that 
appear in daily newspapers, and the 
appearance of hard-core porno- 
graphic bookstores in many a sur- 
prised neighborhood. 

In Jamestown, N.Y., the city coun- 
cil already had banned X-rated films, 
adults-only bookstores, and peep 
shows by enacting an ordinance that 
bans businesses that don't admit 
children. The only exemptions in 
Jamestown are businesses controlled 
by the Alcoholic Beverage Law or 
places that do allow youngsters if 
they are accompanied by adults. 

Since last October the Oklahoma 
Publishing Company — owner of the 
Oklahoma City Times, the Da/7y 
Oklahoman, the Sunday Okla- 
homan, and WKY-TV and WKY radio 
— has refused to carry advertising 
for X-rated films. Last spring this 
policy was extended to R-rated films 
unless representatives of the com- 
pany could see advance screenings. 

Several grand jury indictments 
against hard-core pornography have 
been handed down in Washington, 
D.C. And numerous communities 
across the country have closed the 
hard-core film Deep Throat. 

Even in Europe, which we think of 
as being more permissive than the 
United States, there has been a back- 
lash against pornography and sexual 
exploitation. West Germany, Britain, 



Italy, Yugoslavia, and France have all 
applied tighter restrictions. And 
Copenhagen, Denmark, with its repu- 
tation as the most permissive of 
European cities, has closed clubs 
featuring live sex shows. 

In this country as elsewhere, pro- 
ducers of hard-core films and books 
are in business to make money, and 
if they see profits threatened by less 
than national distribution, they will 
be more cautious about what they 
produce. But some of them probably 
will turn to films and books that 
stress extreme violence and sadism, 
and this will be very bad. There isn't 
much legal control over this kind of 
offensiveness, and it is at least as 
dangerous as pornography. So don't 
breathe too freely if pornography 
disappears from your community. 

In fact, any restriction on the free 
flow of ideas may bring unexpected 
results. 

"Mounting efforts by government 
to inhibit the free expression of 



ideas and the full reporting of in- 
formation pose a major crisis for 
those who believe that truth and 
the freedom to explore the truth are 
fundamental to the Christian view 
of persons," United Methodist Com- 
munications has warned. 

The communicators have urged the 
church to offer programs to study 
the fundamental issues of freedom 
of information, to examine legisla- 
tion designed to protect the rights 
of the First Amendment, and to ac- 
quaint all members with the role and 
responsibility of the communica- 
tions media in our society. 




TV 



There's no community cable TV 
in Shreveport, La., but the First 
United Methodist Church of Shreve- 
port is using four-channel, closed- 
circuit color television equipment 
within the church that is equalled in 
few if any other local churches. 

The closed-circuit system, which 
went into operation last December, 
feeds study material to church-school 
classes, particularly Bible-study ma- 
terial for adult classes. It also feeds 
Sunday morning worship services to 
Channel 12, Shreveport, which airs 




". . . and Cod bless Mommy and 
Daddy. This is not a recording." 



44 



Aurum September 1973 TOGiiHiK 



them to an audience estimated at 
60,000. During Holy Week last spring, 
the station also aired video-taped por- 
tions of a concert that had taken 
place earlier at the church. 

Adults have warmed up slowly to 
the idea of watching television in 
church school, but growing at- 
tendance in adult classes indicates 
that it is catching on. The young, of 
course, have accepted it without 
question from the beginning because 
TV always has been a part of their 
lives. 

On most Sunday mornings you 
will find perhaps a thousand adults, 
young people, and children in church 
school. The minister, the Rev. David 
L. Dykes, Jr., says that closed-circuit 
TV is putting greater depth into their 
study and learning experiences. "We 
think that TV is really part of the 
future," he says. 

In spite of the passing of old shows 
and the birth of new ones on net- 
work prime time, we'll be seeing 
about the same themes this fall that 
we've been seeing all along. Any- 
thing different will have to come 
from network specials, and here are 
a few of those to look for in Sep- 
tember. All times are Eastern Day- 
light Time, but consult your local 
listings for schedule shifts and addi- 
tional programs. 

Sept. 5 on NBC, 8:30-11 p.m. Rerun of 
the film A Man for All Seasons. 

Sept. 6 on ABC, 8-9 p.m. National Geo- 
graphic special: Wind-Raiders of the 
Sahara. Explorers use sand yachts to travel 
2,000 miles across the desert to view 
the wonders of an ancient civilization. 

Sept. 8 on ABC, 9-10 p.m. Woman's 
Place. ABC News special written by 
Marlene Sanders that examines the condi- 
tioning we receive through the media 
on male and female places in our so- 
ciety. 



Print 



In his best-selling novel The Word 
(now in paper, Pocket Books, $1.95) 
Irving Wallace wrote about violence 
and intrigue surrounding the dis- 
covery of a new gospel. 

There aren't any such shenanigans 
in The Secret Gospel (Harper & Row, 
$5.95). Nevertheless, this is an 
anecdotal, interesting telling of how 
Morton Smith, an ancient-history pro- 
fessor at Columbia University, dis- 



covered a copy of a letter that a 
second-century saint, Clement, had 
written about a secret gospel of 
Mark. The letter spoke of secret 
teachings of Jesus and quoted a 
passage that told of Jesus practicing 
magical rites. 

Professor Smith tells about the 
actual discovery of the letter, how 
he went about authenticating and 
dating it, how he established the 
long-vanished secret gospel's rela- 
tion to the New Testament, and of 
what it might mean for the history 
of early Christianity. He doesn't claim 
to have found the absolute proof 
for all the conclusions that he draws, 
but he says that he has searched for 
the most probable explanations. 

The winner of the 1973 National 
Book Award in philosophy and re- 
ligion is A Religious History of the 
American People (Yale University 
Press, $19.50) by Yale professor 
Sydney E. Ahlstrom. 

Said William Sloane Coffin, Jr., 
Harvey Cox, and Charles Frankel, 
judges for the philosophy and re- 
ligion division: "Watch them and 
hear them all! The frontier preachers, 
the earnest founders of holy com- 
monwealths, the visionary Utopians, 
the ecstatic seers of mountain 
visions and kingdoms coming. Here 
is not only the most complete but 
one of the liveliest books on Ameri- 
can religion yet written." 

Charles L. Allen, pastor of First 
United Methodist Church in Houston, 
Texas, distributed a booklet to the 
people of his church that contained 
31 different versions of the 13th 
chapter of First Corinthians— Paul's 
magnificent discourse on love. 

"I asked the people to read one 
version of this chapter each day for 
a month. Each Sunday the sermon 
was on love. Marvelous things hap- 
pened in the lives of many people 
during that month," he says. 

You'll find those 31 versions in 
The Miracle of Love (Revell, $3.95). 
They are preceded by Dr. Allen's own 
thoughts on Christian love. The 
simplicity and warmth of this readable 
book are underlaid by strong theo- 
logical grounding. It might change 
your life. 

— Helen Johnson 




According to the 
highest court, abortion 
is now a practical and 
legal alternative . . . 

but for the hundreds of women 
burdened with unwanted pregnan- 
cies there remains an agonizing 
decision — one that cannot be 
faced alone. 

Out of concern for the predicament 
of the woman with a "problem 
pregnancy," Dr. David R. Mace 
tells where she can turn for help 
on the medical facts about abor- 
tion, the views for and against it, 
the full range of options available 
to her, and assistance in thinking 
through what must ultimately be 
her own decision. 

For the woman considering abor- 
tion — and for families, counselors, 
and physicians concerned with 
helping her reach an intelligent 
choice — the most valuable re- 
source is: 

ABORTION: 
the agonizing 
decision 

by Dr. David R. Mace 

144 pages Paper, $1.95; Cloth, $3.75 



"Warm, intimate 
and personal . . . 
Both the laity and 
the professional 
will be wiser and 
perhaps more 
sensitive to the 
process and solu- 
tions involved 
In abortion 
counseling." 
—Patricia Schiller, 
Executive Director 
American Association 
of Sex Educator* 
and Counselor! 



Qt you cokesbury bookstore 

abingdon 

the book publishing deportment of 
the united methodist publishing house 




August-September 1973 TOGETHER 



45 



Letters 



ARTICLE ON SOCIAL DRINKING 
SHOULD BE WIDELY REPRINTED 

I want to express my appreciation 
to you for printing They're Not All 
on Skid Row [June, page 36] 
by Sara Owen. 

I think it is a very fine story and 
I wish it could be printed and 
reprinted in thousands of newspapers 
and magazines. I think it should 
be presented to young people to 
help them see what influence is 
brought to bear on them by their 
parents' actions. Also, it might help 
persons to see how their actions 
can be duplicated by their children. 

Some way has to be found to 
eliminate the idea that alcohol 
has to be served when people get 
together. Not a TV show is free 
of it, and it is the curse of the 
United States. 

MRS. FRANCES J. WORSLEY 
Springfield, Va. 



PROHIBITION DIDN'T FAIL; 
PROPAGANDA KILLED IT 

The dangers which result from 
the social acceptance of drinking are 
very well stated in They're Not All 
on Skid Row. But the author is 
incorrect in saying, "We know 
Prohibition wasn't the answer." 

Most Americans are astonished to 
learn that history records that 
Prohibition did not fail; it was as 
well observed and enforced as most 
other laws. 

Fletcher Dobyns, a Chicago 
lawyer, spent five years on 
uninterrupted research to learn the 
facts about Prohibition. His findings 
are in his book, The Amazing 
Story of Repeal, published in 1940 
and recently reprinted. Mr. Dobyns 
found that a group of men who 



Send your letters to 

TOGETHER 

1661 N. Northwest Highway 

Park Ridge, III. 60068 



were recognized business and social 
leaders deliberately organized, 
conducted, and promoted a 
campaign to overthrow Prohibition. 
A committee of 578, composed of 
authors and artists, was engaged 
by this Association Against the 
Prohibition Amendment. 

Tragically many Americans 
believed the false propaganda in 
spite of verified facts that Prohibition 
very greatly reduced drunkenness 
and crime. Welfare costs diminished. 
Commitments for alcoholic insanity 
dropped. Automobile accident 
deaths fell. Manufacturers, 
physicians, nurses, and social 
workers testified to a reduction of 
disease, poverty, crime, and vice 
under Prohibition. 

MRS. JEAN B. ROTHE 
Chico, Calif. 



'QUIT CODDLING BOOZE' 

I read with disdain They're Not 
All on Skid Row. I wonder if the 
"activity" engaged in by the 
cocktail-drinking crowd of the 
author's church isn't just that — 
activity. We have too much 
activity in our churches today which 
isn't leading men and women to a 
commitment to Jesus Christ. I doubt 
seriously if the activity-minded 
crowd would be interested in a 
revival, Lay Witness Mission, 
midweek prayer meeting, or 
personal evangelism. 

Let's quit coddling booze and 
call it sin — and hold high the 
standard of total abstinence. 

ROLAND W. KELLY 
Seaford, Del. 



BISHOP KENNEDY DESCRIBED 
DYNAMIC CHRISTIANITY' 

It has seemed as if Together 
couldn't "get with it" to help make 
our Christianity dynamic. However, 
Bishop Gerald H. Kennedy's To See 
Right Prevail [May, page 38] is a 
long step in the right direction. 

It seemed as if we had too many 
retired ministers crying about 
something touching on our church 
dogmas — which helps not at all to 
make religion live for us. I've always 
thought dogmatic discussions 
instead helped put up barriers to 
our youth. 

Bishop Kennedy points out 
something worthwhile. I also agree 
that we should put a stopwatch on 
a lot of ministers to hold down 
sermons that go in a circle 
interminably. 

WILLARD O. MOORE 
Clearwater, Fla. 



NATIONAL RIFLE ASSOCIATION 
ABHORS CRIME ALSO 

I want to respond to Helen K. 
Carpenter's remarks about hunting 
and the National Rifle Association 
[see Letters, July, page 38]. 

I wonder if she has ever gone 
on a hunt or ever fired a gun. 

The National Rifle Association 
is not — repeat, NOT — opposed to 
gun laws which will do what the 
lawmakers say they are for — to 
curb crime. But in most cases, such 
laws do not do what they are 
supposed to do after they are 
passed. They are sort of putting the 
cart before the horse. The laws are 
directed at an inanimate object, a 
gun. The old cliche is true: guns 
don't kill people; people kill people. 
Autos don't kill people; it's the nut 
behind the wheel doing it. We have 
laws against the driver of a car 
who commits vehicular homicide. 
Why shouldn't the same type of laws 
be passed against the bad user 
of a gun? 

We do not have a gun problem — 
we have a crime problem. Laws 
directed against guns is not the 
answer; it has to be laws against 
the misusers of guns. 

RICHARD M. NEEDHAM 
Lancaster, Ohio 



LOGIC STRONG, BUT HE'S 
STILL AGAINST HUNTING 

It is difficult to refute the 
persuasive logic of Rossalius C. 
Hanson, a professional wildlife 
manager [see Say It!, May, page 
19]. However, I must try. 

Mr. Hanson says that much of the 
anti-hunting sentiment today is 
tied in with anti-war movements. 
That is an opinion which needs 
verification. I, for instance, am not 
anti-war but I am anti-hunting. He 
cites our slaughter of thousands of 
domestic animals for food. Let 
us pray that modern 
technology will find a protein source 
in soybeans, peanuts, or other 
plants which will make animal 
slaughter unnecessary. He says 
sportsmen do not "glow in the act 
of killing the prey." Then why 
can't they be satisfied with 
"shooting" their prey with a camera 
at the end of the hunt? 

He also says that "a bullet is no 
more inhumane than packinghouse 
butchering techniques." If Mr. 
Hanson is a hunter, he knows full 
well of instances when an animal 
has died a lingering death from a 
bullet-inflicted wound or has fallen 
prey to predators because of a 
shattered leg. He says wolves 



46 



August-Seplcmber 1973 TOGETHER 



inflict terrible wounds on deer or 
moose before they die. Should we 
emulate nature's savages? 

And does he believe it is a 
"character-building experience" for 
a youth to use a high-powered rifle 
to gun down a helpless animal who 
has no weapon but flight? 

GEORGE F. PLATTS 
Ormond Beach, Fla. 



STOCK INVESTMENT 
SUPPORTING CHAVEZ UNWISE 

Regarding The Church as 
Stockholder: Discovering Proxy 
Power [July, page 10], I seriously 
question the wisdom of those who, 
with Women's Division funds, 
purchased stocks in an orange-juice 
company for the express purpose 
of aiding Cesar Chavez. 

MRS. DOROTHY TUEL 
Tonawanda, N.Y. 



'THIRD AWAKENING' PIECE 
FORGETS THE INDIVIDUAL 

I am deeply concerned that you 
would publish Lyle E. Schaller's 
Will ihe Third Great Awakening Miss 
the Churches? [May, page 15]. 

This says that our Christian faith 
lies in social conversion and action — 
and ignores individual 
responsibilities. 

When an individual personally 
accepts God as his Father in heaven, 
he is truly God's agent on earth. 
But when he emotionally joins forces 
with social-concerns groups, he is 
largely shifting his individual 
responsibility — which only he can 
fulfill — to the other members of the 
group. 

We should never forget that Christ 
challenged the individual. 

CASPER APELAND 
Waukegan, III. 



SCHALLER'S 'ISOLATIONISM' 
VERDICT LACKS EVIDENCE 

Lyle E. Schaller's article was 
unified, coherent, and presented his 
views in a logical, persuasive 
manner. I wish that more articles 
would have his excellent type of 
writing. However, I wish to take 
issue with him on two points. 

First, there is no evidence 
to support his statement that 
"a new wave of social, political, 
and ecclesiastical isolationism 
is growing all across the nation." 
I believe that we are merely entering 
an era where we will learn how to 
selectively help only those who are 
in need, instead of sharing what 



we have with all men in order to 
be sure that we reach those few 
who really need help. Christ did not 
advocate "cradle to the grave" 
socialism, as I understand Him. 
As Christians, we must use our 
resources wisely. Since our resources 
are limited, we should limit our 
assistance to only those in need. 
This philosophy should not be 
construed as isolationism but 
as a better way. 

Second, why is the author upset 
about the phenomenal public 
response to such musical productions 
as Jesus Christ Superstar and 
Godspell? Personally, I preferred 
the Passion Play at Oberammergau. 
But who are we to say that there is 
only one way to present Jesus Christ 
on the stage? I think these two 
musicals have told the story of Christ 
to receptive audiences who probably 
are not in church on Sunday 
morning. Might not the "diversities 
of gifts" include a gift to write 
these musical productions so they 
would reach the man outside of the 
Christian faith? 

I know that Mr. Schaller — and 
all of us — pray that this religious 
revival will be a success by 
bringing untold millions to Jesus 
Christ. If that is accomplished, how 
can there be a social, political, or 
ecclesiastical isolationism anywhere? 
ROY G. WARINER 
Alexandria, Va. 



DID MAGAZINE 

OUTLIVE ITS USEFULNESS? 

I am surprised and dismayed to 
read in the May issue (News, page 
11) that Together is to cease 
publication in January, to be 
replaced by something "that will 
meet the particular needs of the 
present day." 

In spite of your saying that this 
action "in no way repudiates the 
effectiveness of these magazines 
in the past," it seems strange to me 
that after only 1 7 years — yes, I 
still have that first issue, October, 
1956 — it has been decided that 
Together, which received an award 
of merit for general excellence by 
Associated Church Press in May, 
1972, has outlived its usefulness. 

WINIFRED C. SHAW 
Englewood, N.J. 

Letters from a number of readers 
tell us that Together continues to be 
a favorite magazine and retains its 
usefulness for many United Meth- 
odists. We believe that when United 
Methodists Today appears next 
January, it, too, will be useful to 



them. In addition, we feel that To- 
day's content, emphases, and format 
will generate interest and support 
among United Methodists who aren't 
among Together's present sub- 
scribers. — Your Editors 



OBSCENE CALLER NEEDS TALK 

I don't think the article 
The Obscene Caller by Margery M. 
Smith [May, page 33] conveyed 
a very Christian attitude. I do not 
believe that a woman or girl alone 
should just not answer the phone — 
it may be important. Nor do I 
believe she should say the person 
asked for is too busy to come to 
the phone when in fact he is not 
even there. However subtle, this 
is a lie. 

I've found that simply talking 
about Jesus to people who 
threaten me in any way, large or 
small, surprises them so much that 
they no longer bother me. Maybe it 
just confuses them, but I hope that 
it makes them stop and think long 
enough to realize what they're 
doing is wrong. 

BEV LUCUS 
Gardner, III. 



CHAUTAUQUA: VESPER HYMN 
WITH SPECIAL MEMORIES 

I really enjoyed the article on 
Chautauqua in the June issue 
[see St/// Flourishing After a Century, 
page 23] . 

I always loved the vesper hymn 
Day Is Dying in the West, but a new 
dimension was added to it for me 
when I read a number of years ago 
that the inspiration for and 
background of this lovely hymn 
was Lake Chautauqua. 

The words were composed by 
Mary Artemisia Lathbury in 1877. 
The tune associated with this 
matchless hymn is called Chautauqua; 
it was composed by William F. 
Sherwin in 1877. Every verse gives 
expression to devotional experiences 
which leaders and students alike 
have felt as they gathered by 
Lake Chautauqua as the "day was 
dying in the West" to worship 
and to meditate. 

MRS. MABEL L. SPONSLER 
Warren, Pa. 

ILLUSTRATION CREDITS 

Cover — Jim Matson. Matson Molti Media • Pages 
14-17 — Rex Damschroder • IS — Herman B Teeter • 
25-26-27 — Jim Matson, Matson Molti Media • 30 — 
Larry Kitzel • 31 R. — Ann Monteith • 36 — Edward 
Wallowitch • 41 — Helen Johnson • 49 — Rosella J 
Smith • 4-5-6-7-8-9-31 L.— George P Miller. 



August-September 1973 TOGETHER 47 



Letters From Elsewhere by Herman B. Teeter 



In and 

Out of 

this 

World 



Dear Editur: 

Yesterday a.m. my preacher Bro. 
Harol Viktor drove over and told 
me his wife Mrs. Bro. Viktor had 
urged him in a thretning voice to go 
git a haircut or else and he ast me: 
"Hegbert, wood you like to ride into 
the county seat with me so we can 
discuss what little their is to discuss 
about finances at the Elsewhere UM 
Church?" 

"Well," I said, "it dont look like 
you have much hair to cut xcept 
around the edges, none on top, Bro. 
Viktor, altho it is growing down over 
your coller like you was trying to 
look like a bishup or senator." 

"That is what my good wife says, 
Hegbert, but I assure you such is not 
my intent. Us men of the cloth must 
live in and out of this world and, 
frankly I am looking forward to git- 
ting me one of them good old world- 
ly barbar shop shaves. I have thot 
Lip some of my best sermons under 
the soothing application of those 
hot barbar shop towels." 

When we stopt at Tooties Barbar 
Shoppe we seen a big crowd inside 
and a new barbar cutting hair. Tootie 
was loafing on a bench with the 
customers. 

"What is wrong, Tootie?" I ast. 
"Have you sold your shop or sum- 
thing?" and he said, "No, Hegbert, 
I have a bad case of authoritis and 
cant lift my arms, so had to bring in 
a new man." 

"Well, maybe we had better cum 
back later, their are so many hear 
waiting this a.m." 

"No, most have gaithered just to 
lissen as my new barbar is a real 
comic cutup whom nobody has out- 



joshed yet, not even me. Sit down, 
only 2 ahed of you." 

"Next!" said the new barbar, and 
the Scroggins kid got up. "Mister 
barbar," he said, "I am about to have 
my pitcher took for the school anual 
and wood like for you to cut my hair 
so it will look like it aint bin cut in 
3 weeks." 

"Well," said the new barbar, "You 
go on back home. Your hair already 
looks like it aint bin cut for three 
weeks." 

Everbody laffed and the new bar- 
bar said: "I guess you have notised 
that I have raised prices of Tooties 
to $1.25 per hed, same as I was git- 
ting in the state capital. Reminds me 
of the man over their who said he 
thot he wood die when my haircuts 
went up from 40 to 50Y. But he kept 
cuming around. He said he thot he 
wood die when they went up to 750. 
I havent seen him sense I went up to 
$1.25, so I guess he must be ded." 

When he said "whose next?" agin, 
a kid with the longest hair I ever 
seen on a boy got up. The new bar- 
bar xpressed grate surprise. 

"I have had you in the corner of 
my eye, but didnt think you cum 
in for a haircut. I thot you just dropt 
in for a estimate. 

"Now look at that boy whose hair 
I just cut. He was lazier when he 
got out of the chair than when he 
got in. Did you ever notise how a 
haircut or shave makes a man lazy? 
They git up from the chair, stretch, 
and go over and sit down. That is 
how the story started about Sampson 
losing his strength after Delilah cut 
his hair. It didn't weaken him. He 
just got lazy." 

I looked over at Bro. Viktor xpect- 
ing him to take the smart alecky new 
barbar down a few pegs for such 
sackrilegious talk but Bro. Viktor, he 
just set their like he was thinking up 
a sermon and wasnt even in this 
world at all. 

When the time cum for Bro. Viktor 
to be next I went over to the barbar 
and said this is my pasteur and wood 
you give him both a delux hair cut 
and shave at my xpense, as he likes 
to think up sermons in the barbar 
chair. 

"Well, parson," the new barbar 
said, "I have got to hand it to you. 



You are not like most bald heded 
men. You didnt say comb it strait 
back, or part it in the middle, like 
most do. I always tell them I charge 
double if I have to hunt for the hair, 
but will make a xception in your 
case, parson, as I wood not want to 
be struck ded and am myself a 
church going man of a differunt 
faith." 

Everbody was laffing and lissening 
but Bro. Viktor only grinned onct or 
twict and acted like he was still out 
of this world, where I supoze a 
preacher is when he is thinking up 
a sermon. 

"It is a joy to shave you, parson. 
I've found that round fat faces like 
yours are easiest." 

Bro. Viktor didnt say nothing until 
he got out of the chair. Then he 
turned to the new barbar and said, 
"I want to thank you, sir, for the 
tonsorial treat but wood like to make 
a comment in passing. 

"Mister barbar, if you were shav- 
ing me, it hurt. But if you were try- 
ing to skin me alive, you were doing 
it mighty easy." 

Then Bro. Viktor staggered and 
grabbed aholt of his throat. 

"Water, water!" he cryed. "I must 
have a glass of water!" 

"What's the matter, parson?" the 
new barbar ast xcitedly. "Do you 
have sumthing stuck in your throat?" 

"No," Bro. Viktor said, "I just 
want to see if my neck leaks." 

After which everbody laffed and 
clapped their hands and shouted 
"atta boy, preacher!" and we left 
with the new barbar standing their 
with his mouth open. 

"Wasn't that fun, Hegbert?" Bro. 
Viktor ast. "And did you hear that 
clapping back their? That was, glory 
be, sweet, sweet music." 

Which I guess it was to a preacher 
who dont never git cheered or ap- 
plauded on Sunday morning, no 
matter how good a sermon he 
preaches. 

Yours, H. Clutter 



48 



\ugusl Septi mbei I973 fOGI MH.R 



f /-« 



Through My Eyes 

Look through my eyes, you of the city streets, 

Surrounded by your walls of brick and stone, 

You may have your glamour, but have you ever known 

The sweetness of a meadow newly mown? 

Have you walked in springtime along a country lane 

And seen the miracle of life as it begins again? 

Have you ever stood at evening and heard the night 

birds call, 
Or reveled in the lushness of farm orchards in the fall? 
If you've never felt the sweep of winds 
From out uncluttered skies, 
Then I offer you my pity . . . 
And please, look through my eyes. 

— Lula Lamme 




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in October, 1956, we published a note from a 90 year old 
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